


Beneath Silver Skies

by Rand0mSmil3z



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Characters May Be Added With New Chapters, Country & Western, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Revenge, Smut, Tags May Update With New Chapters, Tough choices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rand0mSmil3z/pseuds/Rand0mSmil3z
Summary: Cloud thinks that he found a way to make easy money. All he has to do is deliver supplies to a nearby town and exterminate some monsters that had been causing trouble there - with the help of his best friend and fellow ex-Ranger Zack, of course. Then he would get paid for his troubles, ride back home to his wife Tifa far richer than he had left, and he couldfinallygive her the good life. The life he had always hoped he could one day provide for her when they shared their vows.Yet things never work out so easily. Monster hunting and running the supply chain quickly become the least of his worries as his troubled past catches up to him, and he finds himself sucked back into the high-stakes world of outlaws, killers, and old debts that need repaying. It is a world that he had so desperately climbed out of years ago... except this time, he isn't sure if he can climb back out.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 130
Kudos: 116





	1. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to focus on one story at a time 😂
> 
> The idea for this fic came to me while listening to [Every Storm (Runs Out Of Rain) by Gary Allen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1q3LEadIk3w). I've never written anything Western before ~~and I've never, ever written anything explicit~~ but I hope that that'll be okay??
> 
> Enjoy 😊

There was something beautiful about the open country. Something strange and wonderful about how the mountains cut a violet outline into the horizon; how clouds rested on top of their jagged peaks in streaks of rosy pink; how the land, flat and endless in all directions, was covered with grass stained gold by the sun and dried out by the wind. When a breeze whispered through them, they whispered back about nothing and all, and everything.

It was Cloud Strife’s favorite place to be, and he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and simply… listened. Listened to the grass murmur about nothing and everything, and was content to do so. _Happy_ to do so, because though his entire body ached from his grueling week, the weather was good, and he had a decent dinner of beans, biscuits, and coffee. For the moment, all was right in the world.

Though, he was the only one who seemed to think so. Rain, his horse and constant companion, impatiently pawed the ground before she leaned down to nuzzle his shoulder. _Let’s go,_ she seemed to say. She wasn’t gentle at all with his sore limbs, and threatened to knock him over with every firm nudge. _Let_ _’s hurry,_ she insisted. _Time to leave._

With a faint smile, Cloud reached up and scratched her behind her ear, just the way she liked it. She huffed into his leather jacket.

“I know,” he murmured as his fingers worked behind her ears. His gaze dropped to the horizon; to those distant peaks, their outline rough against the pale, silver sky. “We’re almost home.”

And what a wonderful thought that was.

* * *

Cloud changed his mind.

His favorite place to be _wasn’t_ in the middle of god-forsaken nowhere surrounded by nothing but grass, but here. At home. In his bed.

Buried balls-deep in his wife.

Tifa Strife moaned beneath him, and her slick walls fluttered around his length with her every shaky, panting breath. It wrung a strangled groan out of him as he rocked his hips back, the motion sending sparks skimming his skin as he squeezed his eyes shut and _savored._ Savored the woman stretched out beneath him. Savored how her dark hair was fanned beneath her head, how her eyes were half-mast and their scarlet irises dark with lust. And the noises she made as he rocked his hips again _…_ _God._ Those noises were sinful, practically forbidden, and it had his length stiffening almost painfully instead of her, a steady ache between his legs that left him twitching and shuddering.

Tifa’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed. “You – You w-were gone awhi… _Ah_ _h_ …” He thrust into her, wringing out the open-mouthed syllable further as she arched beneath him, pressing her full breasts into his chest. They could talk about that _later,_ not right now, not when she was shifting her thighs around his toned waist and _moaning_ at him.

And he couldn't get enough of her. Her noises were sinful, and delicious, and he cut them off halfway as he bent down and swallowed them with white-hot kisses. His blood was singing a heady melody that rang through his veins, and he could _feel_ her melt as their tongues met; and she tasted like cinnamon and vanilla and heaven and home. When she shifted, and tilted her head back to angle herself better against his mouth, his hips rocked forward on their own accord. There was a moan; he wasn’t sure from who any more, but couldn’t find it within himself to care. Pleasure rippled through him at the subtle friction, and he squeezed his eyes shut against flame that sparked across his skin and pooled deep in his sternum, tensing his already solid muscles, his abs rock hard and pelvis straining.

 _It’s only…_ _only_ _been a week,_ his thoughts stuttered as his calloused palms glided across her breasts, relishing in their heft, their softness. His fingers – trained to hold a pistol, a coiled lasso, leather reins stiff with cold and frost – were gentle, impossibly so, as they worked and teased her erect nipple. Her eyelashes fluttered as he rolled his hips into her. She was so tight and damp and _warm_ around his length that it dragged another moan out from somewhere deep within himself, and whatever other thought he had trailed off, lost the moment Tifa tenderly tugged at his lower lip and forced him to focus. His skin felt uncomfortably hot. Sweat beaded between their flush bodies. His cock was leaking, twitching, swelling against her walls; the paper-thin control he had was slowly becoming undone, and he palmed her breasts as his rocking rhythm became stuttered. _Uneven_ , and Tifa bit her lip as her gaze darkened. She knew as well as he did that he wouldn’t be lasting long.

“You’re… _beautiful_ ,” he said in a strained murmur, his lips pressed against her neck. It was difficult to string words together, let alone a coherent though, but he was determined to try anyway. “How did I - I get...” She bit her lip as she watched him struggle with language, effectively short-circuiting his thoughts, and it took him a moment to recall what he was saying. “Get… so lucky?” he eventually finished, cheeks flushed with color, chest heaving, his expression soft as he looked down at her - at the masterpiece she was.

And she blushed. Blushed at _that,_ like they weren’t already making love as a hot, steamy, sweaty mess, and he just about came right there. Only desperation made him last a little bit longer.

Just a little longer, but then she looked up at him and purred, “I know.”

His pupils dilated. And he felt her stomach tensed as she leaned up to meet him, her teeth just barely scraping against his earlobe. He could feel the pull slightly, followed a little nip of pain before her tongue flicked across the skin in cool relief…

The heat that had been smoldering deep within him suddenly swelled. Swelled into fire, stardust flickering beneath his closed eyes, and he cursed as his hips bucked; his breaths were stuttered, breathless, there wasn’t enough air in the room and -

 _“I love you, Cloud Strife,”_ Tifa murmured in his ear.

\- and just like that, he became undone. His hands dug into the mattress, his fingers twisting within the sheets. His thrusts became erratic. Hard – _too hard,_ a tiny piece of him insisted, _too hard, be gentle –_ but then he was grinding against her, unable and unwilling to find rhythm again, and the warmth that had been pooled within him was already pulsing down his length and spilling inside of her. He groaned her name into the pillow as his hips rocked in tiny, frantic movements, and she took it all, her movements just as erratic as she rocked her hips up into him, drawing out his own pleasure while peaking hers.

When she tipped over the edge, joining him, his name was a cry on her lips. Their skin became starlight where they touched; he pulsed within her slick walls while her hands gripped the swell of his ass and pulled him in deeper, her panting breathes echoing in his ears, her body quavering around his length until he was fully, completely, empty.

He practically collapsed on top of her, boneless. Weightless. For the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. Nothing was sore. He felt high off of her starlight and sunshine as he closed his eyes, and couldn't help but smile as she squirmed into a more comfortable position beneath him.

“Not... crushin’ you?” he slurred. "I can... move." Though, truthfully, he couldn’t have moved even if he had tried. Exhaustion was settling in quickly, turning his arms to lead and head into cotton. A week of hard riding would do that to a person.

His smile warmed as he felt her wrap her arms around his back, her muscles slender yet firm. Strong. His Tifa. His _wife,_ which left him feeling strangely giddy. “Don't move,” she ordered into the dark. A pause, then: "I missed you while you were gone."

He hummed as warmth pooled through him, one that had nothing to do with their recent activities. “Missed you too,” he managed to reply. His voice was rough, barely audible; sleep was drawing in quickly, that weightless dark that threatened to swallow him whole. How easily he could sink into it. Let himself be swept away, let himself be…

 _Wait._ No. He couldn’t sleep yet. He hadn’t said it back yet. Hadn’t… Hadn’t told her the same. From earlier.

He forced his eyes to open, though they felt like sandpaper. Forced himself to shift onto his side so he could make out his wife more clearly. Forced himself to meet her gentle scarlet eyes, even though she was rapidly falling in and out of focus. Forced himself to close the distance between them and land a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I love you too,” he slurred.

 _There._ His smile was soft. So was hers as she stared back up at him, her expression bellying more far kindness than he deserved.

Sleep was gentle when it claimed him.

* * *

Dawn was Cloud’s favorite time of the day.

He leaned against the porch fence, a cup of black coffee between his hands and his breath fogging the air in front of him. The sky was stained pink as it stretched above him. Pink and violet and, where the sun was just cresting the rolling hills, a beautiful gold. The vibrant colors stained the wild land in shades of pastel, and everything seemed more gentle beneath it. The distant rooftops of their neighbors had softer edges. The dirt road leading up to his property seemed smoother, though he knew that the recent rain had left ruts deep in the rich earth. Even the cacti, which dotted his land like sentinels with thick arms praising the heavens, seemed to have a kind glow about them.

Of course, he knew first hand that the land was not kind. The wilds were not gentle, not soft, and _certainly_ not forgiving. He had the scars to prove it. And it wasn’t just the land, either – monsters roamed these parts, feral and at home within the barren wilderness, and while he was confident he could handle himself the same couldn’t be said for so many others. It was partly why he was out here, truth be told.

But only partly.

Soft footsteps behind him told him that Tifa was awake, and he didn’t turn around as she pulled their comforter around their shoulders. Then she was leaning into him, the top of her head just brushing against his chin, and he sighed contently as he rested his cheek against her.

“You should still be asleep,” he murmured, his eyelashes fluttering in the chill morning.

Tifa only hummed in response. Like himself, she also craved the quiet mornings. Craved the way that the world was silent and still around her, as if it were holding its breath before the sun came out and warmed the land.

She looked up at him, humor warming her expression. “So should you,” she told him. “You’ve had a hard week.”

“I always wake up at dawn,” came his easy reply. He wrapped his arms around her, inhaled her scent of vanilla and rain. “Force of habit.”

A smile teased her lips. “I know,” she murmured as she leaned against him again, and he relished her warmth. The softness of her nearly bare skin against him. _God,_ he had only been gone a week, but he had missed her something fierce. When had he become so needy? So _desperate?_ “But that doesn’t mean that you couldn’t sleep in every _once_ in a while," she continued.

 _Sleeping in._ He couldn’t imagine that he would do much sleeping, not with Tifa beside him beneath the sheets, and the corner of his lips lifted. “I’ll think about it,” he promised.

Her huff told him that she didn’t believe him for a second, and he couldn’t help the faint rumble of laughter deep in his chest. "You will not," she told him as she reached down to take a sip of his coffee… only to grimace in disgust. “No sugar?”

He teased her hair with his finger, wrapping the rich brown strands around his scarred knuckles. “I like my coffee as bitter as I am.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. You are many things, Cloud Strife,” she drawled, “but _bitter_ is not one of them.”

He hummed in response. Clearly, she thought far too highly of him. He could be just as bitter as anyone else, if not more so… but he didn’t correct her. He knew better to by now. In this household, Tifa Lockhart – _no, Tifa Strife,_ he corrected himself with only a hint of smugness – was always right. And she made damn sure to remind him of that fact often.

“So,” she continued after a pause. She pointedly did _not_ take another sip of coffee as she nestled against him, a perfect fit into his side. “How was your trip?”

And with his next blink, his mood instantly dampened. Tifa could tell – she _always_ could tell, and she glanced up at him. At his melancholy expression… but she said nothing. She was a patient woman, more patient than most to put up with him, and simply waited for him to begin his tale.

“It… started good,” he began when there was far more gold than pink staining the sky. A hawk cried out in the distance before it streaked to the rolling earth, plucked a mouse out of the brambles, and then arced gracefully back up towards the pastel-stained sky. Cloud’s blue eyes tracked the bird as he continued, “Rain and I made good time. Took the dry riverbed to the next town over, rested there for the night, then kept on going. Got to Corel just fine. But then...” He dropped his gaze to bury his nose into the crook of his shoulder, and when he spoke again, his voice was muffled by her hair. “Then when I went to the inn…”

His voice trailed off. Tifa had, at some point, turned around so that her chest was flush was his. Her fingers worked circles into the small of his back, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling in tight. His breath shuddered.

“The people there are scared,” he finally murmured. “The inn keeper almost turned me away.”

Tifa frowned up at him, and she didn’t need to be told why. Bandit attacks had been becoming more common ever since the president of this stretch of the country, a wealthy man who went by the name of Shinra, increased the taxes. Coupled by a dry year, especially in the eastern half of the land… well, people there were becoming desperate. It didn’t take a wise man to see why.

“Well,” Tifa stated matter-of-factly, “he should have known better to turn you away. After all you did for them.” She loudly huffed. “Ungrateful bastards.”

Cloud smiled at her curse and planted a small kiss on the bare shoulder, and she tilted her head to give him better access. He kissed her again, a little needier now, already feeling himself hardening despite their… activities the night before. In his defense, he had been so exhausted from the hard riding of the week that last night's memory was a blur. He needed a refresher. His _body_ needed a refresher, if the growing ache between his legs was any indication, and he hoped the small kisses he trailed up her neck told Tifa as much.

“Cloud Strife,” she huffed, her tone severe despite how she arched her neck to give him better access, “you are insatiable.”

He grinned into her bare skin.

“ _But,”_ she firmly continued, splaying her hand against his chest, “you need to finish your story before we do anything else." He was _very_ curious as to what that _anything_ might mean. "I was worried sick about you, you know. You were gone longer than usual." Her full lips pursed with worry. "I thought that you were dead in ditch somewhere.”

He hummed. “Me? Dead in a ditch? Please,” he teased, but his grin had already slipped and with a small sigh, he rested his chin on the top of her hair. The sky was shifting into a burnt gold shade; soon, it would fade to a baby blue and then the morning heat would come. He needed to get a move on if he wanted to beat it, but in the meantime… “The recent bandit threats aren’t the only thing that had the people of Corel nervous,” he finally admitted.

Tifa arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“There have been monster attacks. One of their fields had been razed. Burned to the ground, until the only thing left was dust and ash. I rode past it on my way into town.” He shifted his weight to his other foot. “But that’s not the half of it. There cattle are being picked off one-by-one as well, simply... vanishing in the dead of night. Monster attacks, they said. And then, when I went to the saloon for some answers, I heard a… rumor.”

A small crease formed between Tifa’s brow. “A rumor?”

Cloud subtly nodded. “Yes. They’re expecting another attack soon; but this time, they don’t think it’ll be just burnt fields or missing cattle. They think that, next time, it’ll be a person dead.” He frowned. “When I asked about it, they became somewhat... aggressive. Didn't want a stranger meddlin' in their business.”

Tifa gave him a long, dry look. “You didn’t pull a pistol on them… did you?”

Cloud smirked. “Nah, Teef. I’m dumb, but not _that_ dumb.”

“You are many things, Cloud Strife, but you are certainly not dumb.”

“Wait until you hear the rest of the story,” he added, shifting so that he was pressed more firmly against her. Tifa huffed at him. “So then I was thinkin’, there was an opportunity here. I didn’t ride all the way out to Corel to come back empty handed, after all - not with the autumn quickly approaching and our grain ready for harvest. So, after getting a meeting with the mayor...”

Tifa’s eyes widened. “You met with the mayor? Of Corel?”

“I did,” Cloud replied with a wicked grin.

“Do I want to know how you managed that?”

He ducked his head to grin into her hair. “Probably not.”

Tifa hummed, unimpressed. “Then I don’t want to know,” she firmly decided. “And then?”

“Well… I may or may not have told the mayor that there is only one way to take care of monsters, and that would be the hard way.” Tifa grimaced at his implication. “And after the mayor saw the, ah, _sense_ in that statement, he asked me what I would do about it. So we struck a deal,” he finished, sounding more than a little pleased with himself.

Tifa only looked up at him in horror. “What sort of deal? Nothing dangerous, I hope?”

“Nothing too dangerous,” he promised. “Corel in desperate need of cattle and grain due to the recent destruction, and are willing to pay quite a bit for it. But they’re also willing to pay quite a bit for someone to take out the monsters nesting there.” The corner of Cloud’s lips lifted. “The Fairs have more cattle than they know what to do with, we have the grain, and Zack and I _are_ used to dealing with monsters and such...”

His statement was undeniable. Back in the day, he and Zack Fair – their neighbor and husband to Tifa’s best friend, Aerith – had been a part of the prestigious Continental Rangers, before they had quit for the more simple life. He had never told Tifa what he had done before he had become a Ranger, and Tifa had never asked; she respected his privacy. But while Zack had eased into the world of domestic affairs quickly and enthusiastically, Cloud had, to put it simply, struggled. He never told her as much, but she knew was that he continued to long for the open trails. She saw it in the way he watched the horizon. In the way he looked after Rain, his horse, and all of his riding gear – like he was getting ready to tear off into the wind at a moment’s notice.

Tifa tilted her chin to look up at him, her brow drawn. “You want to make easy money,” she accused.

Cloud pretended to look shocked at her statement. “Me? Want to make easy money? _Never_ ,” he teased. “I’m being a good neighbor, like you asked me to be. I’m being _neighborly._ ”

“This isn’t what I meant when I said that, and you know it.”

“I know, but... _Tifa_ ,” Cloud continued, his tone firmer now. "They’re willing to pay _one hundred thousand gil_.” And when Tifa’s eyes widened at the exorbitant sum of money, he continued, “Think about what we could _do_ with that much.”

Tifa quickly recovered from her shock, and her lips pursed. “We don’t need it.”

But Cloud protested, “The roof has needed repairs since we built it. The front door is cracked. And the fields! We can finally buy _real tools,_ Teef, instead of what your father loaned us. And Rain can have a nicer stable, one I don’t have to constantly repair.”

“Ah, so you’re doing this for your horse.” Tifa’s eyes lit up in understanding, and she smile was teasing as she said, “ _Now_ I understand.”

“And for you.” He dipped his head to nuzzle her neck, his arms wrapped around her middle. “Always for you.”

“ _Always_ , you say,” she purred, her voice suddenly a little rougher. “I wonder.”

Hell, her voice also sounded a little _needier,_ and _damn_ if his cock didn’t twitch with sudden want. His mouth went dry as she looked up at him with those half-lidded eyes, their red now copper beneath the brightening sky.

“Tifa?” he managed as she leaned up into him.

“Cloud,” she echoed, “can I tell you something?”

He blinked dumbly as she went on her tip-toes against her, her full breasts warm against the thin fabric covering his chest… then he sucked in breath as she whispered in his ear, “ _We don’t need the gil.”_ His cheeks flushed at the feeling of her hot breath caressing his earlobe, and she added, “We have each other. We’re _enough,_ Cloud. All I’ve ever wanted was you.” She pulled away, smiling at him, and he only able to stare mutely in reply. “I said as much during our vows, remember?”

Cloud thickly swallowed. Yes, he remembered. He couldn’t forget, and the only part of him that had remained dust-free on his week-long ride had been his silver wedding band. He distinctly recalled when they had said their vows; but not in front of the priest but beneath the moonlight, and swore upon the stars instead of an old book that in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, they would stay together – in this lifetime, and the next. It was a small ceremony. Intimate. 

Perfect.

He brushed his lips against his knuckles at the memory. “When I said those vows,” he murmured, “I had imagined that we would have more _richer_ and less _poorer._ ”

“Life doesn’t always happen the way you want it,” Tifa told him.

“But you deserve more,” Cloud insisted. Static hissed between where his lips met her delicate hands. “It isn’t… It isn’t fair to you to live like this. You deserve better.”

Her gaze softened. “ _Fair_ is what you pay for on the train, Cloud. It doesn’t apply to real life.”

He chuckled at her dry expression. “I know,” he murmured. “But that shouldn’t stop me from trying, should it?”

“Sweet words won’t convince me to let you do something so reckless, Cloud. _Monster hunting,"_ she huffed. "Insanity."

“Oh?” He brushed his lips against her knuckles again, and was satisfied when he felt her shudder beneath his lips. “And what,” he added, looking at her from beneath his blond lashes, his voice rough, “can I do to convince you?”

The look that she gave him could have made the devil blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said in my opening author's note, I've never attempted anything like this before, so any feedback is appreciated 😊 ~~but please be kind if you have constructive criticism, I'm sensitive~~
> 
> Also, I'm [Rand0mSmil3z on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) \- feel free to follow if you'd like story updates, previews, and links to my ko-fi and other stories I publish! 😊
> 
> Thank you for reading! 💙


	2. The Fairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you've read the first chapter, then you'll probably know what to expect in this chapter lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've learned so much about cows, horses, and pastureland while writing this chapter, like you have no idea. Also, writing ~~especially writing smut~~ is so hard 😭 But there are only so many times I can rewrite the entire chapter before I go crazy lol
> 
> Enjoy! 😊

The summer months were rapidly collapsing into autumn. Yet the hotter season clung to the land with a stubborn persistence; by midday, the dawn's chill air had given way to a stifling, suffocating heat that had Cloud dripping as he worked the field. The only relief came from the occasional breeze, a stale thing that whispered through the grass and rustled the large oak that grew beside the house, and the cool water that he could draw up from the well. Though the water tasted faintly of salt, Cloud had drunk greedily. He had also poured some on his head, his eyes closed in absolute contentment as water dripped through his hair, soaked into his shirt, and cooled his sore, aching muscles. Tifa had chiding him for wasting water when she had noticed how much was pooling at his boots… only to immediately forgive him as he flashed her a boyish grin and blew her a kiss, which had her blushing.

By mid afternoon, most of the chores had been taken care of. The grain had been tended to, the chickens had been fed, and Rain's stable had been cleaned and mucked. As for the horse herself, Cloud had taken special care to brush out her rich caramel coat and clean out her hooves – tasks he had performed the night before, but now repeated as he had some daylight to work with. She had nickered in thanks when he had finished.

"You're very welcome," he said, smiling fondly as he reached up and scratched her behind the ears – just the way she liked, before he reached down to grab his tin bucket and tools. Every muscle groaned at the faint movement, and he had half in mind to go find a shady spot and take a nap when Tifa's voice echoed through the stable.

_"Cloud!"_

Rain's ears flicked forward in alertness, and Cloud – shooting the horse a worried look – glanced towards the stable door. "Here!" he called back.

Soon his wife's boots crunched against the loose dirt and gravel as she popped her head into the stable – smiling, a small fact that relieved him. "There you are," she said as she strode up to him, a basket of clean laundry balanced on her hip and her linen blouse rolled up to the elbows. The fashion showed off her well-defined arms, and there was just no helping the smile on his face as she continued, "So, I was thinking."

"Thinkin'?"

"Thinkin' that it's been a while since we've seen the Fairs." She shifted her weight to her other foot, and her linen skirt flowed with the gentle movement. "It's been what, a month now? And maybe we should stop by for a quick visit. You've been meanin' to talk to them anyway, and besides, then you can help Zack out with his cattle." She smoothed out her blouse with her free hand. "It's only him out in the pasture now, since Aerith has been… well, predisposed."

 _Pregnant,_ she meant.

"And besides," Tifa continued, reaching forward to a warm hand against Rain's head, who then blinked in contentment. "Maybe Rain would like to see Spirit again."

Rain's ears swiveled forward, eyes brightening at the word _Spirit_. Cloud only scowled. It was no secret that Rain had a special fondness for Zack's horse, a handsome, black-coated stallion with a silver streak on his forehead. But Cloud couldn't help but feel like he and Rain were ill-suited for each other. Sprit was incredibly… well, _spirited_. And besides, the _last_ thing he needed were ponies frolicking in their dry field – a field that they didn't have enough money to even fence in.

"Well," Cloud said, pushing that thought firmly out of his mind, "I'm just about finished here." He wiped his hands against his worn trousers, and Rain nickered behind him. "When did you want to leave?"

Tifa grinned at him. "Now?"

* * *

While Rain had initially been unenthusiastic about being asked to leave her cool, cozy stable, she quickly perked up once she realized where exactly they were going. Then there was just no stopping her. She impatiently pawed the ground as Cloud slipped the bridle over her head, and continued to flick her tail in annoyance as he tightened it, loudly declaring that he was being too _slow,_ that she wanted to leave _now,_ that they were burning sunlight and, really, why couldn't he move _faster_?

"Calm yourself," Cloud muttered to the complaining Rain while Tifa stood beside him, grinning at the mare's enthusiasm. "Almost done." He grabbed an old blanket off of a wall, one that was simple and plain, and slung it over her back… only for Rain to shake her entire body, sending it off-kilter.

Cloud loudly huffed in annoyance before reaching to readjusted it. "The more you do that," he muttered, "the longer this is gonna take."

"You _do_ know she only does that to get a rise outta you," Tifa teased, reaching up to place a hand against Rain's muzzle.

"And it works." Satisfied with the blanket, he shot Rain a long stare meaning _behave_ before he gently led the mare out of the stable and to the picket fence. He used its wooden rungs to push himself up onto her back, and once he was settled into place, Rain twisted her head back to him and shot him another long, dry look.

He met her stare with a long, dry look of his own. "Yes?"

Tifa chuckled at their antics, and continued to laugh to herself as Cloud held a hand down to her to help her up. Her hands were soft compared to his callouses, and the moment she was in place, he shifted her so that she could sit more comfortably in his lap. She had to sit side-saddle due to her long skirt, and his strong arms wrapped around her to hold the reins.

"Hang on," he murmured into her ear, and was _immensely_ pleased at how her cheeks flushed with color.

But then Rain loudly nickered, reminding him that they had an audience.

Cloud scowled and did his best to push thoughts out of his mind, muttering instead, "Alright, alright," before clicking his spurless boots against Rain's strong side. "Gentle now," he ordered when she began to move forward.

Tifa hummed, and he could feel the vibration against his chest as she leaned back into him. "But isn't Rain always gentle?"

" _No,"_ Cloud scoffed. "You should have seen her when I gave her half my apple the day before. Nearly but my fingers off." His scowl deepened. "Feral beast."

Tifa only laughed and ran her hand along Rain's strong neck, the small hairs coarse against her palm. "Did you hear that, Rain?" she cooed, like she was talking to a kitten and not a powerful, half-ton mare. "He called you a _feral beast._ "

Rain flicked her ears as if saying, _Yes,_ she did hear what Cloud had said. And judging by how she flicked her tail, she was very much displeased with the entire exchange.

"But don't worry, Rain. _I_ know better," Tifa added as she continued to rub Rain's strong neck. "You're just an absolute sweetheart, aren't you?"

"Don't compliment her too much," Cloud drawled. "It'll go straight to her head, and then she'll give me a hard time about it."

He held the reins loosely as they trotted forward, as Rain already knew the way. She led them confidently through the main gate, and the main gate wasn't much; just little more than two planks of wood hammered into the ground, and a small sign painted with the word _Strife_ resting on top. But he felt a tinge of pride when he saw their hand-painted sign. He remembered when they had dug it into the ground, how they had both held the hammer when they drove in the final nail and could finally call this stretch of wild land _home._

Tifa leaned back into him, unaware of his nostalgic musing. "Aw, please. Rain wouldn't give you a hard time. All she needs is love and attention. And lullabies," she added, shooting Cloud a knowing grin. "You spoil her."

Cloud frowned as they began heading down the thin trail, and dust clouded the air with Rain's ever footfall. He didn't protest Tifa's comment, and only said, "She's a good horse."

Tifa's smile widened. "You spoil her _rotten_."

"Like I said." Cloud reached down to pat Rain's side, and she snorted in response. "She's a good horse."

* * *

The Fairs' property was a short three miles from the Strife land, and was relatively easy to find. Rain had long since memorized the way – that was where Spirit was stabled, after all – and confidently plowed forward through the grasslands, the oak trees dotting the land, the snaking crevasse that cut through the hills that divided their two properties. Soon enough, the tan gabled roof of their home could be seen standing tall above the lush grass that marked their cattle's pastureland.

A familiar brown-haired woman was hanging up the laundry to dry, and the white bedsheet flapped in the breeze as Aerith reached up and pinched them onto a wire running between two of the oaks that spotted their land. The stretch showed off her sizable baby bump.

"She's going to burst any day," Cloud murmured as they approached, his voice low.

"Actually," Tifa corrected, her voice equally soft, "she probably has at least another three months before she's due."

His eyes widened a fraction. Aerith was a petite woman, and the layers of linen she wore only seemed to emphasize that fact. But for her to have _that_ size of baby bump…

"Three more months?" he echoed, leaning back with a mix of horror and awe. "Damn. She gonna have twins?"

"Language, Strife," Tifa chided. "And no, she's a healthy size for a _single_ baby."

He just about winced at the mental image of that baby somehow coming out of such a tiny woman, only to eject that thought so firmly out of his mind that he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Will she..." Heat rose up his neck, and he pushed his hat a little lower on his face to hide that fact. "Well she be… okay?"

Tifa laughed at his obvious discomfort. "Of course! Don't be so squeamish, cowboy. Us ladies are tough. We're kind of made for that sort of thing."

He fidgeted uncomfortably on Rain's back. "If you say so," he said, and was spared from having to say more when Aerith noticed them. Her green eyes lit up in pleasant surprise, and then she was waving one arm high in the air as she watched them approach, her laundry forgotten.

" _Tifa!"_

Tifa's expression shifted into one of joy. "Aerith!" she called, and briefly allowed Cloud to help her off the horse before she ran up and enveloped the other woman in a warm hug, a tangle of earth-toned fabrics and laughter. Cloud watched it happen from Rain, a small smile curving his lips.

"It's been so long!" Aerith cried, her green eyes nearly silver in the sunlight. She wore a wide-brimmed hat to shade her freckled skin, and she rested her hands on her bump as she continued, "Where have you been?"

"We've been so busy with the fields," Tifa easily replied. "And Cloud has been lookin' for sellers in town. We just haven't had the chance to stop by until now."

"Well, save some of that grain for us," Aerith grinned before turned to Cloud, her expression warm. "Hello, Cloud."

"Ma'am," Cloud greeted, tipping his hat.

Aerith seemed delighted by the formality. "Zack is out in the pasture," she told him, already knowing who he wanted to see. "He's down by the lake. And he'd appreciate some help with the her… we just have so many cattle." She sighed dramatically and clasped her hands beneath her bump, a seemingly unconscious gesture. "All of the calves are growing up so strong, and they've really been givin' him a run for his money. It's a good problem to have," she quickly added, "but a problem nonetheless."

"Cloud might have actually found a solution for that," Tifa told the other woman.

Aerith turned to her, wide-eyed, before she then glanced at Cloud. "Truly?" And at Cloud's inclined head, she exhaled her surprise. "After all of the trouble out east, I figured that we'd just be swimmin' in cattle until next season… Where at?" she asked.

"Corel," was Cloud's reply, which had Aerith's eyebrow lifting in question. "The people there have had some trouble with monsters, and have lost quite a bit of their herd. They're willin' to pay quite a bit for replacements."

"Monsters?" Aerith's lips pursed. "We _do_ need to sell some of the herd, but oh, I don't want to sell them to a town full of monsters..."

"Cloud and Zack could deal with those," Tifa said, saving him from replying. "Problem solved."

Aerith contemplated it for a moment. "Well, that's all good and well… What sort as we talkin' about?"

"Nothing that Zack or myself haven't dealt with before," Cloud promised.

Aerith hummed as she thought about it, but then after a pause, nodded her approval. Cloud's shoulders dipped in relief. "Well, why don't you talk to Zack about it?" she said. "I'm sure that he would be thrilled. Besides," she added with a laugh, "he's been goin' stir-crazy out here, tryin' to take care of the cattle while thinkin' about our own little one. He needs to travel for a bit… take some time for himself, you know?"

A hawk cried out in the distance. "I do," Cloud murmured. He knew all too well how the open road could calm a person, and tipped his hat towards her. "I'll go speak to him."

"Tell him that supper will be ready soon," Aerith called as he turned Rain towards the pasture. "You're welcome to join us."

 _Supper._ Cloud's mouth just about watered, and he inclined his hat again before turning Rain towards the Fairs' pastureland. He clicked his heels against her side, but she needed no extra prompting – not when she could scent Spirit on the wind, and happily trotted towards the stallion like she was a compass and he was the northern star.

* * *

The Fairs' pastureland might as well have been a painting. The rolling hills were lush and green, the lake sparkled and rippled with every dry breeze, and the oak trees that speckled the property grew tall and proud. The wind rustled through their sprawling branches and tugged at its leaves, and Cloud could make out most of the herd resting in the shade they provided.

But the herd, about forty heads by Cloud's estimate, were far too many for the ten acres that the Fairs' pasture stood on. Though the lake provided a constant source of fresh water, it couldn't prevent the changing of seasons. The lush grass was already drying, fading to a molted brown, and coupled with the several calves nestling against their mothers...

Cloud's lips pitched into a frown. _They really do need to sell some,_ he thought as Rain briskly trotted forward, her head swiveling as she looked for her favorite stallion. _Or else they may not have enough food to feed them through the winter._ It was a sobering thought, but one that he had a potential solution for, and he redoubled his efforts to find Zack somewhere along the herd.

As it turned out, Zack wasn't difficult at all to find. He and his dark stallion, Spirit, stood guard on top of one of their hills. They were as still as statues. Zack's black hair was windblown beneath his wide-brimmed hat, and his cheeks were flushed from the heat; but his expression was kind, and his gray eyes brightened when he noticed Cloud riding towards him. He grinned wildly when Spirit whinnied his greeting to Rain, Rain happily snorted in response.

"Howdy," Zack said, extending his hand when Cloud was close enough. Their gripped forearms in greeting as their horses pressed into one another, both nickering happily as they were reunited at last. "'Bout time you showed your ugly mug around here," he joked.

Cloud pretended not to hear as his blue eyes scanned the herd. "You have quite a few little ones," he commented.

Zack only sighed. "Don't I know it," he said as he squinted down to the resting cattle. His eyes were shadowed by the wide brim of his hat as he continued, "Babies are the only thing I can think of recently. Seem to be dominating my life, in fact."

Cloud didn't doubt it, which reminded him… "Aerith is looking well," he managed.

Zack laughed at his awkward phrasing. "So you've seen her," he grinned. "The baby is gonna be a big one, huh? He takes after his father."

Cloud arched an eyebrow. " _He_?"

"Call it a hunch." Spirit shifted beneath Zack, and he swayed in the saddle for a moment before regaining his balance. "But can you imagine?" he continued. "Me, a father. Settled down on a plot of land. _Owning_ the land, and the cattle, and the house." He huffed a breath, his flushed cheeks blowing out with the motion. "Seems unbelievable."

Cloud turned his attention back to the herd. To the few stragglers as they stood ankle-deep in the muddy lake, content to simply stand there without a care in the world, happy to chew on their cud. "It's pretty unbelievable," he admitted, shifting his weight on Rain's back. "Frankly, I can't believe that we've survived so long."

Zack barked a laugh. "That is true," he said and followed his gaze, his bright eyes shadowed by his hat. "And now look." He vaguely gestured at the herd grazing beneath them, and continued, "I have more cattle than I know what to do with, and can't find a buyer for th' life of me. _Too close to the winter months_ , some have said. Others have claimed that they _don't have the space_. All of 'em, lyin' like rugs," he cursed. "Think I don't know better."

Cloud couldn't help but grin. "Shame, that."

"More than a shame, if you ask me." Zack sighed as his gaze rested on one of the calves. "I'm gonna have to find a buyer soon, and quick. Before the winter."

"And what if I told you that I found a buyer for some of your herd?" Cloud said. And at Zack's incredulous look, he grinned and continued, "And that it doesn't matter if you give 'em cows, or heifers, or even your grumpy bull."

"You found a buyer?" Zack narrowed his eyes, frowning. "Where?"

"Corel," Cloud replied. A dry breeze rustled through the pasture, and the grass hummed beneath it. "The town has been suffering from monster attacks."

Zack shot him a look. "And how, exactly, would you know this?"

Cloud knew that look, and resisted the urge to duck into his saddle. "I... might have been there a few weeks ago."

"'Course you were," Zack muttered before adding, a little louder now, "When are you going to settle down, Cloud? _Actually_ settle, instead of… whatever you're doing now," he added with a wave of his hands.

"One day," Cloud replied offhandedly. "But moving on, one of their fields had been razed, and now their cattle have been disappearing. Only a matter of time before Corel doesn't have any left."

The corner of Zack's lips twitched upward. "Now ain't that unfortunate."

"Very," Cloud deadpanned. Brushing some stray hair out of his eyes, he continued, "And so, after hearin' all of that, I struck a deal with Corel's mayor."

"The mayor?" Zack glanced at him in surprise. "Must have been difficult to meet with him."

"Not all that difficult, once I proved that I was, ah, more than capable of defending myself."

Zack shot him another dry look, one that was almost as dry as the grain. "You didn't pull a pistol on them... did you?"

Cloud smirked. "I might have," he admitted. "But only 'cause they drew a pistol first. But don't tell Tifa," he quickly added, glancing back to Zack. "She thinks that we negotiated proper-like, using… you know. Words."

Zack huffed a laugh. "Does she now?"

"Think so."

"You're askin' for trouble, Cloud," Zack told him. Cloud only shrugged – he didn't need the reminding. _Asking for trouble_ is something that he did often, regardless of whether or not it was intentional. "So, lemme guess what this deal of yours was," Zack continued, shifting his weight in the saddle. "We gotta drive some of my herd to Corel, kill the monsters once we get there, and then return home and deliver your grain when it's ready for harvest since all of their fields are burned."

"That's the gist of it," Cloud replied. One of the cattle began trudging up the hill towards one of the oak trees, and his eyes tracked it as his mind wandered. Truth be told, he wasn't looking forward to another ride to Corel. Even just _thinking_ about another week-long venture on horseback – perhaps even longer since he and Zack would be driving the cattle the entire way – made his already saddle-bruised ass hurt even more. _But it'll be worth it,_ he reminded himself. _Tifa and I will finally have some money_.With that he turned back to Zack and grinned. "Think you're up for somethin' like that?"

Zack huffed a breath. "Why not?" he said. "'Course, gonna have to discuss it with the wife, but..." He turned to Cloud, his smile soft. "Thanks for findin' us a buyer, truly. Aerith has been worried about it for weeks."

"Of course," Cloud easily replied. Rain shifted her weight beneath him, causing him to sway on her back as he continued, "Least I could do for everything you've done for me."

Zack went quiet at that. "We had quite a bit of fun, being Rangers," he said after a lengthy pause, and looked out to the distance. "Didn't we?"

Cloud followed his gaze. "We did," he eventually replied.

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes," he admitted.

Zack glanced at him. "And before that?" His tone was almost delicate now. "Before you became a Ranger?"

Cloud continued to watch the distant horizon, and his eyes traced mountain's jagged peaks, how each tip carved a wedge out of the sky, lowering his gaze to the river snaking along the dry, brown earth. There was something sad in his expression. Something a little bitter, and he replied:

"No."

* * *

After the cattle were settled in the pasture for the night, Cloud and Zack headed back to the ranch house for an early dinner, which consisted of fresh bread, salted pork, and herbed potatoes from Aerith's garden. Aerith had a special ability to make anything grow, and her small garden was filled with vegetables and fruits – including the kind that weren't even in season. Dinner had passed quickly, and it had ended with the four of them having a whiskey toast to good fortune on the trails. But Cloud hadn't partaken. He had only pressed the glass to his lips when he had been expected to, and then had snuck the rest to Tifa when he had thought that no one was looking.

After dinner was the task of separating Rain from Spirit. Rain complained the entire time Cloud bridled her, and Spirit sounded just as dejected. "We'll be back soon," Cloud had promised the mare as he placed the blanket back over her back. "You'll see."

But Rain had no way of knowing of their mission tomorrow, and Cloud had no way to make her understand. It was finally the promise of one of Aerith's carrots, plucked straight out of the ground not two minutes prior, that eventually convinced Rain to trudge out of the Fair homestead and back onto the trail leading home. Yet even with the carrot, she would continuously throw her head over her shoulder and look for Spirit's stable – even after they were a mile down the road, and they had stopped being able to see it long ago.

But she obediently continued her walk until they had reached their small house nestled within the tall, golden stalks of grain. "I'll head inside and start a bath," Tifa said the moment they had arrived, and had slid off of Rain's back with hardly any assistance. Cloud made a soft sound of agreement as he guided Rain to her stable, and she walked with her head down, ears lying dejected against her head.

"Sorry, girl," Cloud murmured as he slipped off the bridle and removed the blanket off her back. Hanging them both, he continued, "You'll see him tomorrow soon, I promise."

Rain pawed the ground, just about as sad as sad could be, but allowed Cloud to handle her. He checked to see if the bridle chaffed her anywhere, which it did not, before making sure that she was standing comfortably on all four legs and nothing seemed to be hurting, which nothing seemed to be. Satisfied that Rain was in good health, he then went to the well and pulled up a bucket full of water. He made quick work of filling her trough, which she then drank from as he double checked all of her hooves – taking care that no stones worked its way inside, and was happy with what he saw.

The last task on his to-do list was to fill and hang the slow-feeder in Rain's stall. The slow-feeder was little more than a rope net filled with a generous helping of hay, which assured that she would have food to forage all night long and she, having finished her water, nickered her thanks and butted him with her head.

He scratched the back of her ears, bone-tired but managing a smile just the same. "You're welcome," he told her. "And you'll see Spirit tomorrow, I promise."

She loudly snorted, clearly not believing him even when he pressed a kiss onto her nose.

"Good night," he told her, and was on his way out the stable when Rain once again nickered and reached forward to butted her nose against him. It was clear what she wanted; she wanted company, as she was feeling lonely without Spirit, and Cloud only sighed as he placed a hand on her neck. Truth be told, he had wanted to clean up before bed, get some sleep… but there was just no helping it.

Without another word, Cloud reached into one of his riding bags and pulled out a small guitar. It was clearly well-used, and it was obviously too small for him… yet he wouldn't trade it for the world. The old guitar and him had a history together. He had bought it back when he had been a child; back when his hands had been far smaller, the world had been far larger, and people hadn't been nearly as kind.

Now the guitar was as necessary to him as his tinderbox or his pistol. With it, he could say everything that he couldn't put into words. That he didn't _want_ to put into words. That he couldn't even bring himself to remember – things that were too terrible to even recollect.

So he carried it gently as he eased himself down against one of the stable walls. Tuned it carefully, mindful of its old strings, as Rain nickered softly and stood closer to him, to the point where the top of his hat brushed against her warm belly.

Then with a faint inhale, he began to play.

He gently plucked the strings, one at a time, letting the notes echo and overlap within the stable walls before strumming in earnest. It was a heartbreaking melody, one that was broken and beautiful and wrenchingly sad; and the notes clawed their way skyward, each building on each other before collapsing, fracturing, falling downward like birds struck from a pale sky. But the moment the notes fell to the ground he plucked another, dragging the song out of the dust, forcing it heavenward once again.

He closed his eyes as his low voice joined their ascent.

And he sang of nothing at all, and everything.

The melody and his voice wove together; the notes descended when he did, soared as he tilted his head back, and though he was a bit rusty and sometimes the notes wandered, Rain stepped a little bit closer to him and huffed. It almost sounded as if she was trying to join him; a nicker here, a small huff there, and when the last note faded and he blinked open his eyes, she was right there to nuzzle his head with her nose.

"Better?" he murmured. The song had dragged something out of him, something that was better left forgotten, and his eyes were watery when Rain's muzzle bumped against his forehead.

Rain snorted and pushed a little harder against him; yes, she was doing better, and Cloud softly smiled as he forced his sore, aching limbs to stand. He needed to rest if he was to be ready for tomorrow, and quietly wished Rain and the chickens goodnight – even the damned rooster – as he headed into the house, wishing for a hot bath but knowing better to expect to actually get one. He had been out too late; the water had definitely gone cold.

Yet he was pleasantly surprised when he kicked off his boots and took off his hat, hanging it by the door, as Tifa hugged him from behind. He could feel the warmth of her body seep into his night-chilled skin as she sighed into him, her hands looping around his stomach.

"That was a sweet song," she murmured, the noise a faint vibration against his skin. "Sad, but sweet."

Heat tinged Cloud's cheeks. "You heard that?"

"I did." She lifted her head out from his shoulder and blinked at him, her scarlet eyes nearly black in the dark. "Doin' okay?"

Cloud placed his hands over hers. "Yeah," he quietly replied, and lifting her hands to brush his lips against them. "Just… remembering."

Tifa hummed into the crook of his neck. "Want to talk about it?"

But he only shook his head. "It's not worth talkin' about," he said before turning to face her completely, and then it was him who was pulling her in close. Him who was burying his head into her neck. Him who was deeply inhaling her scent, and he smelled warm vanilla and fresh soap…

_… Soap…_

That snapped him out of his daze. He let her go, an apologetic smile on his lips. "Sorry," he murmured. "Let me go get cleaned up."

"Water's still warm," Tifa told him as he made his way to their small bathing area. The wooden floor cold against his bare feet. "I reboiled some water."

Cloud just about groaned when he stuck his fingertips into the tub; sure enough, the water _was_ warm, warm enough that steam was still curling in the air and the window was foggy with condensation. He had no idea when she had done that, but at that point, he no longer cared. "I love you," he told her as he turned to her, his gaze soft. "Have I told you that today?"

He was rewarded with a gentle smile. "I love you too," she said. "Andyou might have… but," she added, her tone now teasing, "I could do with a few more."

"Hm..." Cloud peeled off his shirt and dumped it unceremoniously to the side. The moonlight – just now peaking out through the clouds – ran a pale, slender finger across the ridges of his abs, the swell of his pectorals, and he made quick work of undoing his belt buckle and kicking off his pants before easing into the tub.

Tifa made a sound of appreciation at seeing him bare before her, and then moved to kneel beside him as he settled fully into the tub. It took all of his willpower not to moan at the water's delicious heat enveloping him – or the hungry look that Tifa was now giving him as the water sloshed and rolled against his body.

"Let me help you." Tifa's voice was a low murmur as she reached for the soap, still damp with foam from her previous soak, and dipped it in the water before running it along his shoulders. He leaned forward to oblige her; to let himself be cared for, which Tifa was happy to do. She ran the soap against his back, and goosebumps peppered his skin at her light touches. At the feeling of her fingernails grazing his skin. At the slippery soap running across his body, against every bruise and ridged scar; at the water's heat soaking into him, and a shiver flickered down his spine as he closed his eyes, dully realizing that he could very well just fall asleep right here.

He had no idea how much time had passed until Tifa had set aside the soap, and then it was her hands that she ran along his sore muscles. Her fingers pushing against his tight knots and working out their tightness, and he just about groaned beneath her as water sloshed against the tub's sides.

"You sure you want to go tomorrow?" she murmured as she dragged her hands upward, until her palms were flush against his shoulders. Her hands were hot against his skin, and her lips pursed with worry. "You seem a little… well, a little sore." Her fingers pressed into him again, kneading his stiff muscles, and Cloud clenched his jaw as she worked out the tight knots. "It would make me feel better if you'd take a week off."

"I'm fine," he managed, though the reassurance was little more than a breathless shudder. "Can't wait another week." The feeling of her hands pressing down against him had sparks flickering across his skin, and he was content just with that. But then, all of a sudden, she was she was _leaning_ against his back. Her skin was hot and soft against him, her full breasts were flush against his shoulder blades, her arms reached forward to drape across his chest…

He thickly swallowed as warmth began to poll deep in his sternum, and it wasn't long before there was a familiar ache between his legs – one that was hidden by the cloudy, soapy water. He shifted in the water, trying to ignore what his body wanted. It was late enough as it was. He _should_ be getting ready to rest.

But he had a hard time convincing himself of that as Tifa's fingertips grazed the water's surface, sending ripples dancing across the milky, sudsy water. "I'll miss you," she murmured against warm skin. " _Again_."

"I'll miss you too," he admitted with a slow, shaky exhale. He'd miss her more than she probably realized, and he reached up to loop his fingers with hers. "I'll be back before you know it," he promised, leaning back so that the back of his head rested on her shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut even as he smiled at her. "Swear it."

She returned his smile, and unlike his quiet, shy grin, her smile was all moonlight and sunshine and sweet summer clouds. "I doubt that," she told him, "but I appreciate the sentiment all the same."

There was something different in her tone now, a heated promise that hadn't been there before, and his eyelashes fluttered open just as she leaned down and pressed her lips against his. The kiss was hard, almost desperate, and all thoughts of resting faded away as Cloud further parted his lips and their tongues flicked against each other. Her tongue explored his mouth. Skimmed the ridges of his teeth, and heat blossomed and sparked within him until the warm bath seemed cold by comparison.

God, he hadn't even _left_ yet and he was already missing her.

His hands crested the water and he reached upward, blindly pushing Tifa's hair out of her eyes even while he tilted his chin higher, hungry for the taste of her. Tifa's fingers skimmed her hairline before tangling in his hair, and he just about groaned as he clamped his legs together against the hard ache that was steadily, slowly building deep inside him. The faint movement had the lightest friction against his cock, and it sent another flurry of heated sparks scattering across his skin as his breathing went ragged. He suddenly had the wild notion to drag Tifa into the bath with him. He _needed_ to have her body heavy against his, _needed_ to be as close to her as possible, _needed_ to be inside of her -

But then Tifa pulled away.

His eyes fluttered open in question as her forehead tapped against his. She breathed hard, her chest rising and falling as she blinked open her eyes. "We… We should rest," she managed, echoing his earlier thoughts – thoughts that he had given up on. "You'll be havin' a hard day tomorrow."

Cloud's mind was presently occupied by _other_ hard things, but…

"That's true," he managed, his tone equally rough and a more than a little strained. It took more self control than he was willing to admit to let his hands fall. To accept the towel she offered and dry himself, and then join her in their bed – he'd deal with the leftover bathwater tomorrow.

He laid down carefully on his back, his skin still flushed and warm as he stretched himself out against the sheets, trying to ignore the ache between his legs. Sleep was a long off now, and the notion only further solidified as Tifa curled into his side, her bare skin hot against his.

But when he looked to her to wish her good night, he noticed that she was already looking up at him through her thick lashes, her carmine eyes bright and hazy with lust.

He licked his lips. "Come 'ere," he murmured into the twilight.

And they continued where they had left off.

Their lips crashed hungrily into each other, desperately even, because they both knew that by this time tomorrow there would be dozens of miles between them – if not more, depending on how quickly he and Zack could drive the cattle east. Her hands snaked into his hair, determined to take the night slow. But he was more impatient that she was. His hands trailed lower, following the dips and curves of her spine before cupping the swell of her ass, and his biceps tensed as he pulled her hard against his throbbing shaft.

He faintly groaned at the subtle friction that had sparks showering his skin, but he tried to ignore it. Tried to put it from mind, because he didn't want to focus on his pleasure tonight. Not right now, because not only did he need to make up for lost time, but he was also about to be gone for another week or so. He had a lot to make up for. And he wanted to make Tifa feel good; to have her remember why she put up with him leaving so often, and why she loved him enough to stay.

So he held her gently, careful not to be too rough as he worked his fingers to apex of her legs – to the sticky heat that was pooling there. Tifa moaned into his mouth when his fingertips found her slick folds, and she ground against his hand as he slowly slipped inside.

" _Cloud_ ," she gasped as his thumb brushed against the tight bundle of nerves situated there, and tried to say his name again – but it only came out as a drawn-out moan as he moved his thumb in a gentle circle on that specific spot, and then pushed his index and middle finger inside of her. She bit her lip, her breath harsh and body twitching, and it wasn't long before her warm slick was gathering against his fingers and running down his knuckles.

He tried to stand it. Tried to calm down, but his cock was throbbing and dripping and _aching_ against his stomach. Ached almost _painfully,_ and his breathing was rough and uneven as his hips grinding upward in tiny, frantic movements, desperately seeking any sort of relief against the flat planes of their bodies. Yet though his body demanded friction, _demanded_ that he make his way inside of her and thrust into her folds, he focussed all of his attention on her. No matter how hard he became or how hard he throbbed, she had his complete attention. He just wished that he could give her more.

And when she did come, she came with his name on her lips. Her hips bucked into him, and he could feel her wet walls pulsate and gyrate around his fingers. The sensation sent a throb of heat so strongly through him that his hips reacted, thrusting upward hard enough to lift them both off the bed for a moment before they both sank back down into the groaning mattress. His control was rapidly slipping. His pants became ragged as he held her tight against him as she rode off her high, his hips shifting against her, his throbbing member seeking any sort of release.

But when Tifa snaked a hand down and her fingers wrapped around his painfully hard length, he just about whimpered at her touch… only to practically _whine_ as she guided his leaking tip to her entrance. It was a noise that he was too ashamed to admit had come from his own mouth, but he stopping caring as he entered her warm entrance with a firm thrust.

But when she groaned as she was filled, Cloud froze, his heart nearly stopping dead in his chest. "Hurt… you?" he managed, his voice strained as he struggled to remain somewhat composed. "T – Too hard?"

His eyes were squeezed shut and he felt, not so much as saw, Tifa lean down until their noses brushed together.

 _"Push harder,"_ she ordered.

Cloud sucked in breath and obeyed, pushing into her again. Again and again and again, that mattress squeaking beneath them and his rhythm already lost and stuttering as he unraveled. But when when she ducked her head and sucked at his _neck_ …

He whimpered and, unable to stand the hard ache building inside of him any longer, thrust hard into her. Pushed and ground and rocked his hips against hers until the fire that had been skimming his nerves consumed him, burned him alive, danced behind his closed eyes and swallowed him whole -

\- and with a muffled curse, the fire exploded inside of him and he spilled into her, uncontrollable, helpless; licks of flame dripped out of his length as he emptied, each spurt leaving him twitching and shuddering and exhausted and _relieved._

Tifa held him tight against her as he rode out his high, grounding him within the heat of her flushed body until he fully, completely empty. It was only then did he blink open his eyes. Only then did his breathing slowly even, and a faint smile curved his lips as he looked up at her, the love plain in his eyes. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Come with me," he told her, his voice hoarse. "To Corel."

Tifa huffed a faint laugh. "Rain can't carry us both for that long," she murmured, her arms still wrapped around his neck. "You know that."

"Sure she can." He closed his eyes with a faint exhale, his body boneless against the mattress. "Please?"

"Are you begging, cowboy?"

Cloud's grin broadened at her teasing tone. "Maybe."

He could feel Tifa's laugh rumble through him, and he missed her warmth when she rolled off of him and curled into his side. She used his arm as a pillow, and her fingertips gently traced the scars spiderwebbing his chest. "Next time," she told him. "And until then, I'll hold down the fort."

Disappointment rippled through him, and he planted a small kiss on her forehead. "I'll miss you," he murmured.

"And I'll miss you too." His eyelashes fluttered when her lips brushed the tip of his nose. "More than you know."

He thickly swallowed. Pulled her a little tighter against him. "I love you."

He felt her lips pull into a smile against his, and it warmed something within him. "I love you too," she said, murmuring her reply. "Now get some rest, Cloud." A coyote howled outside; an owl cried out to the moon. "You'll need it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get into the main storyline now, so expect more plot and less, well, _plot_ in the next few chapters 😂 But hopefully no one minds???
> 
> But changing subjects, thank you all so much for all of the kind words & kudos last chapter 🥰 I was so nervous about posting chapter one just because I've never attempted to write anything like this before, ~~let alone scenes so scandalous lol~~ but everyone had been so nice and I appreciate you all so much 😊💙
> 
> Until next chapter, stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💙
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm [Rand0mSmil3z on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) \- feel free to follow if you'd like to see story previews, links to my ko-fi and other stories I publish, and general positivity 🌻


	3. The Inn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys begin their long ride east, featuring way too many landscape descriptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! I hope you've all had a good week so far 😊
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for all of the kudos and comments! I love hearing what you guys have to say, and I appreciate it all so much 🥰
> 
> Enjoy the chapter 💙

When dawn arrived, it arrived hesitantly and full of trepidation. Its glow did not stretch across the sky with brilliant pastels, nor did it dye the dry land gold beneath it. Instead, it limped from cloud to cloud in tired smudges of gray and violet. Morning mist hugged the land. Trees cut ghostly silhouettes in the fog. Dew clung to spiderwebs like pearls, and Cloud couldn't help but squint at the ominous landscape, his blue eyes bleary with sleep, as he readied Rain for their long ride east.

Today was going to be a hard, exhausting day.

He just hoped that he was ready for it, and had just finished up packing his riding bags when he heard quiet footsteps approach the stable. It wasn't long after when Tifa peeked inside. A rough blanket was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, and her long hair spilled over its faded pattern as she slowly blinked at him, her tired mind struggling to catch up with what she was seeing.

"Leaving already?" she eventually murmured.

Her voice was rough with sleep, and it held such a mournful undercurrent – a _lonely_ undercurrent – that something inside of Cloud cracked. Setting aside his canteen, he made his way towards her and gently wrapped her in his arms. "You should be asleep," he murmured as she folded into him, sighing with contentment. She was _warm._ Warm enough that he could feel the heat of her body through her blanket and his clothes, and he closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head. He suddenly felt a bit brittle. _F_ _ragile_ even, like he was a small cup of china resting o n the edge of a table, and one small bump could send him crashing down.

But he had shattered enough for single lifetime - more than enough, in fact - so he pressed a chaste kiss onto her forehead and slowly pulled away. Tifa made a faint noise of protest as he did so.

"What are you doing up," he continued, brushed a stray hair behind her ear. "It's early."

 _Too early,_ the sleep-deprived part of him complained as Tifa looked up at him. Her carmine eyes were dark and wandering, almost as if she was still lost in her wild, blue-sky dreams, but then she blinked and the fog in her expression cleared. "I wanted to say goodbye," she told him, tiredly, still waking up. A hand formed a fist into his shirt; the other was held behind her back. "And I also wanted… to give you something," she slowly added. "Before you leave."

Cloud arched an eyebrow. "Give me something?" And in reply, Tifa wordlessly pulled out the small paper bag that she had been hiding behind her back.

He glanced towards her, and it was only when she nodded did he open it. His eyes widened. "Chocolate?" he murmured, and looked up at her in confusion, struggling to comprehend. "How..."

A small smile curved her lips. "Do you like it?" she asked, then wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him in. She buried her face in the soft fabric of shirt, and her voice was muffled when she added, "Thought you'd want some on the road."

She certainly wasn't wrong, but… "How?" Cloud repeated. "Where? _When?_ " He couldn't fathom when she had boughten some. The nearest settlement was Rocket Town, and that was a half day's ride east – more so if the weather was bad, and he knew for a _fact_ that she hadn't been out that way. She didn't have a horse, and she certainly didn't walk it. So… "How?" he asked again, incredulous. "When did you have the time..."

His voice trailed off, and Tifa chuckled at his perplexed expression. "Aerith gave me some yesterday," she explained. "She didn't think that Zack would share with you on the trail, so she had me deliver it in person."

"That was… generous of her," Cloud managed, sounding a bit strangled.

 _Far_ too generous. Chocolate wasn't just hard to come by… it was also expensive. A luxury that they couldn't afford. That Zack _or_ Aerith couldn't afford either, for that matter, as they had a baby on the way.

"That's what I said, but she insisted," Tifa said when she suddenly yawned, eyes squeezed shut and one hand covering her mouth. The sky took on a rosy hue as it crept between the uneven rafters. "And," she continued, wiping her eyes, "I…. have something else for you, too."

Cloud's brow furrowed. "Something else?"

"That's right." Her gaze dropped down to his lips, and before he could react, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and her lips brushed against his. Her lips were a shock of heat that sharply contrasted to the dewey, crisp air, and yet the touch was gentle... almost painfully so. It told him of all the reasons why he should stay, and reminded him of all the reasons why he needed to leave: to earn money for their home; for their future; for the chance at a better life. And when she grabbed the collar of his shift and pulled him down, they crushed together, two bodies intent to merge into one. Her smaller hands wrinkled his shirt and his larger hands splayed against her back, pulling her in. They held each other tightly. Desperately. As if they were holding the whole world together, and one slip could have everything fall apart around them.

Cloud wasn't sure who let go first.

All he knew was that his eyes were suddenly fluttering open and he tasted something bitter, something that reminded him of mornings waking up alone and open skies.

"Hurry back?" she asked him, a bit breathless. Her hands remained tight around his collar.

Cloud thickly swallowed, the bag of chocolate heavy in his hands. "I promise."

Silence descended upon them as they watched each other. The air between them became heavy and cold.

She let him go.

* * *

Rain was impatient to leave once she realized that they were riding to the Fair property, and had pawed the dirt while Cloud saddled her. Then, with final wave and heartfelt kiss to Tifa, they were off. Morning mist parted for them as they tore through the field. Stalks of grain, heavy with dew, brushed against them as they passed. Eventually the sun clawed its way above the jagged horizon, and the world glowed gold as if lit by a lamp: the trees were dipped in copper, the grain looked burnt instead of tan, and the wispy clouds high above had the same auburn shade as burning embers or smoldering coals. When the first birds began to sing to the sunrise, and Cloud had to adjust his hat to hide his smarting eyes.

It wasn't long until they reached the Fair property. Zack was already waiting for them in the pasture when they arrived, and saddled on top of charcoal-colored Spirit, he cut a striking figure against the landscape. The sun rose behind him, and his shadow stretched long across the rolling hill while the distant mountains cut unevenly into the pale sky.

"Mornin'," Zack called as Cloud got closer. Rain happily neighed when they approached, and Spirit enthusiastically snorted in return.

Cloud's dawn ride did a lot to help wake him up, but he still yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. " _Barely_ ," he muttered, squinting at the pasture… and the herd of cattle grazing in its center. "Ready to earn some gil?"

Zack slowly exhaled. "Earning money, yes," he stated. "Ready for this ride... well, I suppose we'll find out." He turned in his saddle to get a better look at his herd, and though he was clearly just as tired as Cloud, his eyes were bright with excitement. "How long d'you think it'll take to reach Rocket Town?"

Cloud lifted his gaze towards the sky. The auburn shade was beginning to brighten as the sun rose higher, and he knew that the stifling, midday heat wouldn't be far behind it. It remained cold now though, almost uncomfortably so, and he shifted in the saddle as he said, "Probably half a day. If all goes well."

Zack snorted. " _If all goes well,"_ he repeated, like it was some sort of joke. "Well, we both know that it won't go well, so let's double it to one whole day."

"One and a half," Cloud countered, praying that he was wrong.

Zack chuckled. "One and a half," he agreed, albeit hesitantly, before he suddenly grew somber. He sat straighter in the saddle. Held the reins with a little more strength, and said, "Well, you ready or not?"

Cloud turned back to the herd and slowly exhaled. He wasn't sure if _ready,_ was the right word, but…

"I'm ready," he said, and clicked his spurless boots against Rain's flank. She knew the order, and with a toss of her head – undoubtedly to show off her silky mane – she took off down one side of the herd. The cattle startled. They groaned as they climbed onto their feet, protesting every inch upward, but eventually pushed themselves in the direction Cloud wanted – East.

Zack worked the other side of the herd. He made sure that there were no stranglers, that the calves were keeping up and staying beside their mothers, and that none decided to wander too far the other direction. None did; all obediently moved eastward, though they loudly complained all the while.

And so began their long trip east.

* * *

The land east of the Fair property was arid and dry. With the exception of the few oak trees clawing towards the pastel sky, or the rolling hills that peaked out of the smoking morning, the landscape remained flat. Untouched. They stomped through the long grasses that grew out there, some so tall that they tickled Cloud's legs and streaked dew across his pants. There was also a new chill to the air, one caused by the lack of hills and a wide open sky. It was a chill so deep that Cloud shivered on the saddle, but he didn't mind; he knew that the moment the sun climbed a bit higher, the morning mist would burn away and they would all burn with it.

So he didn't complain as they drove the cattle to a dry riverbed. The riverbed's steep banks provided a natural wall, a pen to make sure the cattle continued moving in the direction they wanted. Cloud, as it was, ended up leading the herd. It was a position that he was most comfortable with; he had been something of a scout once upon a time, and now his piercing blue eyes scanned the landscape looking for any sort of life – friendly, or unfriendly.

Meanwhile, Zack trotted at the back of the herd. Here he could keep a better eye on the calves, which were slowly picking their way through the dry undergrowth that grew within the riverbed, and could also split his attention between the older members of the herd and the herd's flanks - just to make sure that none of the cattle got the idea that they'd be better off going a different way.

Eventually, the dry riverbed spilled into what had once been a lake, though now it was little more than a wide, stretching crater filled with rich earth and sharp, red stones that shifted uneasily with every step. Rain's hooves kicked up dust as she crushed fossilized seashells and tiny, bleached bones. Tall pillars of rusty, needle-like stones pointed skyward. Like the great marble columns of a cathedral, they seemed to hold up the domed sky while simultaneously trapping them beneath its pale, painted ceiling, and did very little to protect them from the sun that was rapidly ascending above them.

This was Cloud's least favorite stretch of the trip. Alone he could have passed through the section well before midday, but that just wasn't possible while driving the cattle. In fact, and he had no choice but further slow his pace until he was on one side of the herd and Zack was on the other. Together they carefully guided the cattle through the dead, rocky stretch of cracked earth, and Cloud squinted towards the horizon the entire while, struggling to make out the end of the lakebed. But they weren't quite there yet.

The blistering heat didn't help their slumping morale either. The sun, now shining high above them, baked the rusty gravel they trod over and the rusty stones shimmered with the intense heat. Sweat beaded on Cloud's forehead. He took a lengthy swig of his canteen as he kept his gaze focussed on the horizon, and even though he _rationally_ knew that the distant mountains were a bit closer, they seemed just as distant and unreachable as ever. The thought had Cloud internally wilting. Yet the mountains now had some definition to their rocky faces; they weren't just jagged smudges of violet, but instead were stained with blacks, reds, yellows, and greens. Their white-capped peaks scraped against the clouds. Pine trees dusted their striking valleys and sloping hills, and he could just make out a waterfall spill down one of the mountain's many cliffs. A lake pooled beneath it, and from the lake spilled a river that snaked through the sharp crevice and disappeared behind a hill.

Cloud licked his dry, cracking lips. Rocket Town was somewhere near the base of the mountains; maybe a half-day ride away, or perhaps longer. They weren't yet close enough to make out the small town's red rooftops peeking above the sloping, green landscape, but they _were_ close. Close enough that it warmed something with Cloud and he reached down into his saddlebag, meaning to grab some of the chocolate that Tifa had given him. An early celebration, he'd call it.

But, just as his fingers managed to undo the first clasp, he changed his mind and grabbed some dry fruits and nuts instead. The chocolate would taste better once they made it to town, the herd was in one of their pastures, and he wasn't on a saddle. Besides, he would hate to open it in this heat only for it to melt all over his hands.

"How much further?" Zack called from somewhere behind him. His voice sounded almost raspy – undoubtedly from the heat that currently smothered them, and Cloud turned just in time to see Zack take a long swig from his canteen. His other hand held a piece of dry jerky.

"We..." Cloud cleared his dry throat. "We should reach Rocket Town by sunset."

"And until we're out of this slice of hell?" Zack grumbled.

"Soon."

By mid-afternoon the rusty, hellish landscape gave way to far kinder, less rugged scenery. The loose gravel and rusty rocks collapsed into lush, hilly meadows. Leafy trees stood in place of the thin, pointed pillars that guarded the dry lakebed. Babbling brooks replaced the haunted melody of wind whistling through stone, and as they worked their way deeper into the hills, they came across a small stream trickling through a meadow.

This is where they took their first stop of the day. The cattle, sick and tired of walking, immediately took to the shade. They grazed on the grasses, drank from the river, and were overall as content as cattle could be. Rain happily shook herself when Cloud slid off of her… but while Rain continued to trot where she pleased and graze where she wished, Cloud just about collapsed right there. His knees were wobbly from the bumpy riding and his legs felt stiff and sore, and it took all of his concentration to stumble to a nearby tree and slide himself beneath it.

 _Gods,_ he hurt. He just about groaned when he stretched his legs fully out, and the heel of his boot dug into the soft earth as he arched his arms high above his head. Joints cracked. Everything creaked like he was an old chair carrying too much weight, and with a harsh exhale he let himself go limp on the ground.

"Well, someone looks comfortable," Zack smirked as he hobbled towards him, having left Spirit in the company of Rain. He grunted as he eased himself against the tree, and the back of his head dully thudded against its trunk as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "Remind me again," he said after a lengthy pause, "how you convinced me to ride all the way out here?"

Cloud huffed a breath. "Because," he managed after a lengthy pause, "I'm doing you a… favor." Lying sprawled as he was, he had the perfect view of the tree branches splaying proud above him. Sunlight peeked through the thick foliage and dappled the grasses, a splattering of golds and greens that danced with every breeze, every rustle, every bird that flitted from branch to branch. A cricket chirped. The stream tricked down the hill and spilled over its smooth stones, darkening their usually dull shades into rich hues of reds, blues, and violets.

A leaf drifted from one of the branches, and Cloud closed his eyes as it gently landed against his temple.

He wasn't sure when he had dozed off, but Rain nudging his shoulder shook him back to awareness. He blinked at the sky above, broken as it was with splayed branches and broad leaves, before he remembered where he was. With a stiff groan, he pushed himself onto his elbows. He hadn't been out long, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes at the most. Zack was similarly passed out against the tree beside him; his eyes were closed, his breathing was even, and his mouth was hanging open so wide that for a moment, Cloud considered dropping a cricket into it.

But he quickly pushed the thought aside; having Zack angry at him would only make their long ride longer.

"Zack," he croaked, his voice dry. And when he got no response, he said a little louder, " _Zack."_

Zack sighed, eyes still closed. "But Aerith..." he muttered.

Cloud scowled and, using the leftover water from his canteen, flicked it at Zack's face. Zack was awake in a moment, sputtering jackknifing upward in something of a panic…

… only narrow his eyes at Cloud, and the canteen he held.

"I ain't your wife," Cloud told him before Zack could get a word in. "Now git up."

Zack's gaze remained sharp before he sighed and, with what looked like monumental effort, pushed himself back onto his feet. He groaned as his legs accommodated his body weight.

"You've turned into a hard-ass, Strife," Zack said matter-of-factly as he hobbled towards his riding equipment, which was lying in a heap beneath some tree. "A bona fide hard-ass."

"You used to be worse," Cloud replied, just a sore as he shuffled his way to his own equipment. "Far worse."

Zack only grinned, because he knew that it was true. Back in their Ranger days, Zack really did whip all of the new recruits into shape – and, once upon a time, that had included Cloud as well. "It was good for you," he grunted as he stooped over his saddle-bags. "Built character."

 _"Built character,"_ Cloud mockingly echoed as he repacked his bag, and checked that the chocolate was still safe and secure. He moved just as slowly and purposefully as Zack, if not more so as this was his second trip east in less than two weeks and his entire body screamed against it. "You almost killed me."

"Built character," was Zack's only reply.

It wasn't long before both horses, having drank and grazed to their liking, were once again prepared for the trip east. Thankfully the herd had stayed nearby while they had rested, and it was easy to round them back up and continue their cattle drive.

From here on out, the landscape remained relatively the same. There were no more dramatic shifts from golden prairie to rocky lakebed. No more stone structures holding up the sky. Just grassy hills, leafy trees, and somewhat cooler weather. Unlike on the Strife property, where the dry heat burnt the earth and dried out whatever grew on top of it, the small streams and brooks allowed the grasses to grow short and full. Taller weeds hugged the tree trunks. Mushrooms, all different colors and shapes, lined fallen trees and formed circles around broken stumps. The occasional flower dotted the path, and Cloud couldn't help but wonder if one would survive the trip back home – a flower would add some color to their dusty, brown house. Tifa would like it, too. She had always liked flowers.

Cloud shifted in his saddle, trying to ignore his sore ass and stiff legs. Maybe he could ask Aerith for some gardening tips. Growing flowers, after all, was an entirely different matter than growing grain. Grain grew easy; the rain watered it, the sun helped it grow, and all he had to do was cut it down and bundle it up when it was ready. But _flowers…_ that was something else. Give them just one wrong look and they withered.

The image of him growing flowers, of all things, had him chuckling. If someone had come up to him ten years ago and told him that he'd be growing flowers…

… Well, he'd probably shoot them before they had the chance to ask.

The thought sobered him as the trail descended into a valley, and he pushed it out of mind when they reached a broad river. Yet while it was wide, it certainly wasn't very deep, and the horses had no trouble crossing. But even so, both Cloud and Zack had to carry the calves across, one at a time, until every single one had made it safely to the other side.

Cloud wrinkled his nose, knowing that he'd be smelling like cow for _days._

By the time they made it across, the sun was hanging low in the sky – low enough that the heat had finally, fully faded away. The bugs had come out full force too, and Cloud wiped his brow and swatted mosquitoes as he squinted off to the distance. They were close to Rocket Town now, close enough that he could just make out the faint pricks of light emitting from the houses. The soft glow beckoned them forward, and even the cattle seemed eager as they made their way out of the valley and onto the flatter, tree-spotted grasslands that surrounded the town.

When they finally did arrive, Cloud pushed himself off of the saddle so quickly that spots floated in his vision for a moment. His legs felt stiff and sore, as did pretty much everything else, and he pressed his hands against the small of his back and arched himself backward, groaning as he felt his muscles pull and stretch with the motion. He nearly went lightheaded with how good it felt, to be standing on his own two legs instead of bouncing around on the saddle's hard leather.

"Reckon they got room for us?" Zack asked, walking just as gingerly as he was.

Cloud grunted his response and, with the vague motion to stay, hobbled his way towards the town's shared stable. One short negotiation with the stable-master later, who found Cloud's state and quick return to their town hysterical, the cattle were penned in a spare plot of land for the night and the horses were stabled and taken care of. Rain and Spirit were placed beside each other, of course.

With that taken care of, they made their way to the Shanghai Inn, a cozy place that also doubled as the town's bar.

The door creaked when Cloud pushed it open, and the floorboards groaned when he walked across its threshold. Unlike many of the bars, taverns, and saloons he had passed through during his travels, the Shanghai Inn was clean. Tidy. Cozy even, with a rug spread beneath the circular tables and the cheery fire crackling against the wall. It gave the room an almost smokey scent, one that blended nicely with the heady tang of drink and the hot meals steaming on every table.

But it was also busy this time of day. Bodies occupied nearly every chair, and mismatched companies pressed tightly together on shared tables. Revolvers were casually placed next to mugs of ale. Muddy boots remained firmly on the floor. Cloud's own boots squeaked against a sticky drink that someone had spilled earlier, and he was grateful for Zack's presence against his back as he picked his way towards the counter. Zack may be one of the most peaceful man that Cloud had ever met, but going off of the way people were staring, no one else seemed to know that – a small fact that Cloud was grateful for.

The bartender, an older woman with a suspicious gaze, looked them over with a practiced eye as they approached the counter. Yet when her attention landed on Cloud she paused, as if surprised, before her lips thinned with displeasure.

"You again," she dry greeted.

Cloud grinned crookedly. "Ma'am."

Her hard gaze flicked to Zack, and she pursed her lips as if further disappointed. "And I see that you brought a friend this time."

"That I did."

"Name's Zack," Zack greeted, subtly shifting his weight against the hard barstool. "I'm Cloud's neighbor."

The bartended only huffed, which strangely reminded Cloud of Rain… though he quickly shook his head to dispel the image. "Don't care," the bartender only said as she deftly poured the two men their drinks – she didn't even bother asking, not that either one of them complained. "You see," she continued as ale sloshed into the thick glass, "I get paid to serve you. Don't get paid to listen to yer life story, you hear me?" She moved onto the next mug, not even bothering to look up at them. "That costs extra."

Zack shot Cloud a nervous look, who only met his gaze and shrugged.

"And take yer hat off when indoors," the woman sharply added, and when both men complied, continued, "Your kind come out of th' open country thinkin' that basic manners no longer applies, don't you? Well, not here in my establishment." She gave the two of them a long, hard look. "I betcha didn't even wipe your boots off by the front door, did ya? Think it was fine dragging mud all over my nice rug?"

"We wiped them," Zack promised, almost a bit franticly. Cloud only took a long drink of ale and prayed that it did its job quickly and admirably. "We did, swear it."

The woman hummed, still staring, before she suddenly stood fully upright with a huff. "Well, good then. So you aren't total barbarians, I reckon. But enough of that." She leaned forward onto the bar counter, gaze piercing. "Am I correct that the two of you will be needin' dinner?"

"Yes ma'am," Zack said quickly.

"Alrighty then." The woman leaned back and wiped her hands down the front of her apron. "What will you two gentlemen be havin', then?"

Cloud nearly snorted. First they were _barbarians,_ and now they were _gentlemen_? But he was wise enough not to comment, and only said, "Corn bread and the hashed beef for me, thank you."

"Same," Zack said, not even bothering to ask if they served anything else.

The woman huffed, and off she went. Zack leaned closer to Cloud the moment she was gone.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. The wide rim of his hat shadowed his eyes. "Did we offend her, or somethin'? Did _you_ offend her?"

"I think that's just the way she is," said Cloud, his voice just as low. He took another sip of the ale. It was room temperature and had a bite to it, but after their hard day, he didn't care at all. In fact, the moment he finished this one, he was determined to order another. At least until he couldn't feel how sore and tender his body was anymore. "Plus," he added under his breath, "I don't think she likes me."

Zack's cheeks blew out with his exhale. "Knew it," he said. "And why not?"

"I just have that sort of impression on people," Cloud said, as innocently as he could.

Zack shot him a long, dry look. "Why not _really?_ " he asked, which had Cloud grinning into his mug of ale.

"Her husband..." He took a sip. "Well, he cheats at cards."

The corner of Zack's lip twitched into a smirk. "And you found out."

It wasn't a question, and Cloud's grinned broadened. "I did," was all he said, and then the bartender returned to the counter with two steaming plates in hand. There was no missing the glare she leveled Cloud with as she set his plate in front of him.

"Enjoy," she said, with the same tone as one said, _Choke._

But Cloud only smiled sweetly in return. "Thank you."

She huffed and walked away.

"You best be careful eating that," Zack muttered as he grabbed his cornbread. It was light and airy, as good cornbread should be, yet not so delicate that it hopefully crumbled in his fingers. Taking a bite, he continued between mouthfuls, "You know… jus' in case she spit on it, or somethin'."

Cloud grinned as he did the same. "I don't mind," he replied, earning him an odd look from Zack. "At this point, it's just extra flavor."

Zack just about choked on his cornbread.

Cloud only laughed.

* * *

The meal came and went quickly, and it wasn't long before Zack and Cloud retired for the night. Tomorrow would be another hard day. Cloud intended to reach the base of the mountain range by tomorrow's sunset, the one that divided the continent right down the middle, and then begin the arduous task of actually crossing it the next day. It would be brutal, especially with the cattle. They would have to take their time crossing the steep passes.

Yet before Cloud turned in for the night, he made his way back to the stable, just to check up on Rain. He quickly realized that he had no need too. She and Spirit were already asleep, both leaning against their shared wall, though Rain did crack an eye open when he walked up. She snorted at him when Cloud stooped down to her level.

"They treatin' you right?" he murmured, reaching through the stable bars to rub Rain's head.

She snorted once more and closed her eyes, happy and content.

"Good." Cloud forced his stiff muscles to rise, and with a final, tired good night, he made his way back to the inn.

Only to go still as he ascended its short steps. He was familiar with Rocket Town's notice board, as he had ridden past it enough times this week to recognize every poster nailed into its hard wood. Yet there was a poster nailed that he did _not_ recognize. It was a wanted poster, and a new one at that considering that its paper wasn't creased and its inky letters remained crisp and dark.

Usually, Cloud ignored the wanted posters. He didn't like looking at them, yet he couldn't help but stare at this one. Stare and go cold, because he _recognized_ that face. He would recognize that face anywhere: that thin jaw, those narrowed eyes, the cruel twist to the mouth, the long, straight hair that fell right off of the portrait.

Sephiroth.

Cloud's breath stuttered past his lips, and the world seemed to go still as his gaze sank to the description. Reading wasn't his strong suit; never had been and never would, but he managed to pick through the words, one at a time, slowly stringing their meaning together.

 _Reward for the capture, dead or alive, of one Sephiroth H. Simmel,_ was the first phrase Cloud read. The second was the sizable reward, which was a staggering fifty thousand gil. And then, underneath the striking image of Sephiroth, was the phrase:

_For robbery, murder, evading the law, and breaking out of the Midgar jail. Last scene heading westward. A handsome young man, standing at 6'1" with silver hair, green eyes, and light complexion. Fine dresser._

And then:

_Had often been seen with his younger brother prior to his arrest._

Cloud's breath stammered, and he tore his gaze away. The sky seemed to have gotten darker, the clouds thicker, and the small hairs on the back of his neck lifted. Yet even though he had every intention of returning to the inn – every intention of going to bed and forgetting he had ever seen this damn poster – he couldn't. The inked letters snagged his attention and pulled it back to the tangled, barbed words, and he had no choice but to keep reading.

_The above reward will be paid for the capture or positive proof of Sephiroth's death._

Then written below it:

_The reward will be doubled for capture or positive proof of the brother's death as well._

For a moment, all Cloud could do was stare at the poster. Stare until his eyes burned and it felt like his chest was caving in, like a weight had fallen on top of it and was crushing him. But then it was replaced by fire; a fire that licked across his bones and scorched his skin, and for a wild, desperate moment, he wanted to rip the poster right off of the wall. Rip it off and then ride away, _far_ away, to where nobody knew him _._ Where he would never see another wanted poster again.

But then he only exhaled. It was a weak, shaky exhale, but an exhale nonetheless, and it calmed him. He forced himself to turn away. Forced himself to ascend the inn's small steps. Forced himself to pass through the front door and then go to its second floor, leaving the conversation and chaos behind him in the tavern, and slip down the quiet hallway. The floorboards creaked beneath boots. The nightly breeze rattled the windows. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote laughed at the moon.

Cloud pushed open the door to his room. The walls were thin, and he could hear Zack's snoring as if he was in the room with him instead of two down the hall. He knew that he should be getting some sleep. Should kick off his boots, take off his belt, and relax for a moment. Tomorrow they needed to reach the mountain, and he knew that the wilds - and the monsters that called the wilds their home - would not make the trip easy.

Yet he remained rooted in place, staring blindly at the wall – and then through it, to a point that only he could see. It was only after some time did he begin to move again; but instead of towards the bed, as he should have, he instead cleaned his revolver. He removed the bullets. Oiled the joints. Made sure it was in perfect shape, and then he kept it within arm's reach as he eased himself onto the bed.

But he did not sleep. He only leaned against the wall, one arm resting on a bent knee and the other gentle against his pistol. His gaze remained out the window. The moon was bright, and the world was stained pale beneath its silver sky. Goosebumps peppered his arms.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been replaying ff7 og (both for this story and [Halcyon Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601267/chapters/59426797)), and once again I really noticed how the map doesn't really show what the landscape looks like? Like sure, we got our smudges of brown and various shades of greens, and even the occasional bushy forest, but it's still pretty bare. So I took some, ah, creative liberties while describing the landscape. Like, a lot of them. Hope no one minds lol
> 
> I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) \- feel free to follow if you'd like to see chapter previews, or just to yell at me about the story 😂 A link to my Ko-Fi is there as well if you'd like to support my writing via coffee ☕️ (though of course, there is absolutely no pressure to do so - if you're happy with the story, then I'm happy 🥰)
> 
> Until next update - have an amazing week, and I wish you all the best 💙


	4. The Rider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... sorry in advance for this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday!
> 
> I hope you've all had a great week so far 😊 As always, thank you all _so much_ for all of the support, kudos, comments, etc! It's such a joy to write for you all.
> 
> Also, huge thank you to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for betaing this chapter 💙 She's the best, and caught so many of my dumb mistakes... lol
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!

Cloud woke up with a jolt. A cold sweat clung to his skin and his clothes were rumpled and mused, as was his messy blond hair. The bed sheets were tangled and knotted at his feet. His heart hammered in his chest. Gasping breaths clawed against his throat, and though the nightmare eventually began to fade, its presence never truly lifted. His gaze darted to every flickering shadow, his fingers scrambled for his pistol with each creaking floorboard, and his mind dug up memories better left buried and forgotten.

He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't even remember closing his eyes, and after a long moment he leaned against the rickety headboard and exhaled the tension that ached within his shoulders. Everything hurt: his head throbbed from exhaustion, his throat was parched with thirst, and his lips were cracked and dry. It was his ass that hurt the most, however; his back-to-back rides had not treated his body kindly, and when he had collected his emotions a bit better and rational thought took root, he solemnly swore to invest in a proper saddle. One with extra padding, and maybe a cup holder for the whiskey he suddenly found himself craving.

He hadn't craved whiskey in years. Truth be told, the sharp, disinfectant smell made him sick to his stomach. But at the moment, his mood was sour and his thoughts were bitter, and he figured that a long drag of whiskey would complement his current mindset quite nicely.

But dawn had yet to spill across the sky, so he decided instead to opt for a cup of black coffee as he pushed himself out of bed. The floor was chilly against his bare feet, and he quietly slipped on the rest of his equipment – namely, his gun holster, vest, and hat – before leaving his room. Zack's snoring reverberated through the hall like a beating drum, yet it was a woman's ballistic snoring that quickly overpowered Zack's. Cloud swore that even the windows rattled as he slowly made his way down the stairs.

The tavern was quiet. The enthusiastic conversations, shouts, and gambling from the night before had been replaced by patrons passed out beneath their chairs, sticky beer stains, and tables still cluttered from last night's drinks and food. But there were a few people that were still conscious; this included the man waiting behind the bar counter, and two other men eating quietly in the corner. Cloud eyed the two men as he headed towards the bar. They wore similar clothing as he did – such as wide-rimmed hats, earth-stained shirts and pants, and thick leather boots – and he immediately recognized them to be folk like himself: travelers, whose way of life also forced them to awaken before the sun did.

Their steaming plates of hash browns reminded Cloud of the entire purpose of this trip – to order a strong cup of black coffee – so he slowly turned back towards the man behind the counter. The man huffed his impatience, and Cloud knew him immediately; not only because he was the husband of the innkeeper, but _also_ because he was the one who had cheated at cards some time ago and allowed Cloud to win quite a bit of money.

But the memory did little to lift Cloud's dreary mood, and he pushed himself into his seat with little more than a scowl and a grunt.

The man leaned forward with his hands splayed against the counter "What can I get you?" he asked. The question came out tense and forced, and it was clear that he remembered Cloud just as clearly as Cloud remembered him… and that he _hated_ it.

But Cloud was far too tired to care, and only leaned his head against his hand and muttered, "Coffee."

"Cream or sugar?

"No." Cloud nearly added, _Add a finger of whiskey,_ but held his tongue. He felt terrible enough as it was; his muscles ached, his eyes felt like sandpaper, and bone-deep exhaustion blurred his vision, not to mention that he had a long day ahead of him. A shot of whiskey wouldn't help his situation in the slightest.

The man sighed. "And… I'll supposed you'll want some food?"

Cloud pondered it for a moment. "Eggs," he finally decided. His eyelashes fluttered as he fought to remain conscious. "With…. toast. And jam."

"We don't got no jam here," the man replied, sounding highly offended.

Cloud closed his eyes and swallowed his sigh – _what sort of backwater place didn't even have_ _ **jam**_ _? -_ but only forced his eyes open and tried,"Honey?"

"Aye, we got honey," the man sniffed.

"Honey then."

"Yes sir." The response was clearly a force of habit, because the man immediately winced the moment the words passed through his lips, and he turned away with a sour expression.

But Cloud had hardly noticed the man's slip up, and he _definitely_ didn't notice how the man continued to mutter vague curses under his breath as he began making a new pot of coffee. Instead, Cloud shifted in his seat so that his back was to the wall and he could watch the front door. His icy blue gaze flicked to the fogged windows, and his eyes studied every passing shadow, every vague motion, every subtle shift through the hazy, warped glass. Dread knotted cold and tight in his gut. His nerves sparked. Adrenaline sang through his blood with every sudden movement, and his fingers twitched against his pistol, fully loaded and strapped firm within its leather sheathe.

A sudden clatter beside him had him sucking in air, but it was only the man giving him his cup of coffee. The man arched an eyebrow at Cloud's pale expression, but the corner of his lips twitched upward as he said, "Here you are." He pointedly dropped the _sir_ with a hard glint to his eyes, but when Cloud only stared and said nothing, he eventually turned away with a glower.

Cloud faintly exhaled the moment the man turned his back. _Calm down,_ he ordered himself, and removed his fingers from the pistol in order to pinch the bridge of his nose. _At this rate,_ he thought with a soft inhale, _you're actually going to end up shooting someone._

There was some truth to that statement – it wouldn't have been the first time he had accidentally shot a man, after all – but he couldn't stop himself from shifting so that he could once again face the door. But this time, instead of keeping his fingers near his pistol, he kept his hands busy by cupping the mug between his palms. The ceramic was warm against his chilled, clammy skin. Steam curled from the brackish liquid. The scent of roasted coffee eased something within him, and he nearly groaned when the black ambrosia kissed his lips. It was bitter and watered down, as he had been expecting, yet it did wonders to lift his mood.

His mood lifted even further when the man returned with a hot plate of freshly scrambled eggs and toast. Honey, thick and golden, had sopped into the charred bread and dripped heavily down its sides. Cloud's stomach clenched in anticipation, and he couldn't help but mutter, "Thanks," as he exchanged his coin for cutlery. The man lifted his eyebrows at Cloud's appreciation, but only grunted his reply and went back to cleaning dishes or whatever innkeepers did in the dim hours of the morning.

It wasn't long before the eggs were little more than a smear of salt, pepper, and grease against the plate. As for the toast, Cloud held it gingerly between his fingers and nibbled on the least-burnt corners as his heavy eyes remained trained on the windows. His thoughts wandered; his mind travelled back home as he wondered what Tifa was doing, if she wasn't lonely by herself, if she was handling the field and the chickens okay.

But sometimes his thoughts wandered even further back, to a small shed nestled in the middle of nowhere, where the air was cloudy with tobacco smoke and flies hummed against cracked windowpanes only to drop dead in dusty corners. It was a place where the ground had been burnt and cracked by the harsh sunlight, the floorboards had creaked and the doors had groaned with every heavy footsteps, and comfort had only been found when his small hands had been wrapped around the abalone hilt of a 0.36 caliber revolver...

Without warning, a slight breeze suddenly rattled the windowpanes and Cloud started with muted panic, but it was a false alarm. Itwas _always_ a false alarm. He forced himself to lean back in his seat, forced himself to exhale, forced himself to calm down. But there was no helping the way his boot tapped against the floor in a sharp staccato, or how his trembling hands sent fine ripples shivering within the dark coffee.

Cloud's lips pitched into a scowl. _Stop being ridiculous,_ he told himself, his inner voice harsh and grating, and then downed the coffee. It was bitter enough to make him shudder, but beggars can't be choosers and caffeine was caffeine – he'd take what he could get at this point, and he lifted two fingers to order another.

It was only after his third cup did he finally feel something in the realm of normal, though his nerves buzzed and heart fluttered with artificial alertness as Zack joined Cloud downstairs. The dark-haired man was bleary-eyed and yawning, and he practically collapsed into the chair beside Cloud.

"Morning'," Zack managed with another yawn. He lifted a hand to draw the innkeeper's attention. "You're up early."

"Wanted to get an early start on the day," Cloud replied. It was only a half-lie; while he did want to get an early start, the only reason he had woken up early was because he hadn't meant to fall asleep in the first place. "Go ahead and order breakfast," he continued as he pushed himself out of his seat. "I'll meet you at the stables."

Zack stifled another yawn. "Sure thing."

Cloud nodded, and then returned to his room to grab the last of his meager belongings. He tried to avoid looking out the window as he collected his things, and he quickly made his way back downstairs and out into the chill morning air.

The streets of Rocket Town were quiet this early in the morning, and his breath fogged in the crisp, pre-dawn air as he made his way towards the stable. It was a peaceful walk that did much to smooth his rattled nerves. Dew clung to the morning grasses. Tree branches draped across the road, and their broad leaves dripped condensation onto his hat as he passed beneath them. He briefly checked on the herd on his way towards the stable and couldn't help but smile as he watched the cattle wander through the pasture or lounge in the tall grass. One walked up to the picket fence to greet him, and Cloud idly rubbed its nose, earning him a small noise of appreciation, before he continued on his way.

The stable was a short distance away from the pasture, and the wooden door harshly groaned as he pushed it open. Dusty light, pale and thin from the dawn still yawning across the sky, filtered in through the high windows and cracked in the ceiling.

"Morning," he murmured as he quietly made his way forward, taking care not to accidentally kick a metal bucket or trip over the hay bundled against the walls. Rain's snort immediately answered him. The next moment, her head was arching over the stall and her nostrils flared when she noticed him walking towards her. Her ears pricked forward, obviously anticipating a treat.

Seeing her so intent wrung another small smile from his lips, and he rubbed the back of her ears as she leaned forward and pressed her nose against his shoulder. He pressed his cheek into the side of her head in return and sighed, finally feeling a sense of normalcy – of _safety –_ since he had woken up.

"I don't have a treat," he murmured. "Sorry."

Rain huffed, not believing him.

"I'll give you one later though." He patted the top of her head and ran his hands along her neck, partly to pet her, but also to feel for any sort of nicks or unexplained bumps. But everything felt fine, and he continued, "I promise. Just have to find one first."

This time, Rain loudly snorted her displeasure.

"Getting grumpy won't make the treat come any quicker."

Rain nickered, disagreeing, before she swung her head towards the door with ears pricked in sudden alertness. Cloud tensed beneath her, his grip instinctively tightening in her mane as he glanced towards the door. The morning's paranoia hissed in his veins and his fingers twitched against an imaginary trigger, but he only exhaled when he realized that it was Zack striding in through the barn doors.

Cloud nearly told Zack that he could have taken his time at breakfast, but the disgusted look Zack was wearing made him pause. Spirit seemed to notice Zack's sour mood as well, and the stallion nickered his concern as Zack ran a hand along his dark mane.

"Did something happen?" Cloud asked, when it became apparent that Zack wasn't going to initiate the conversation.

Zack harshly sighed before he turned to Cloud. "Did you try the coffee?" he demanded.

"The coffee?" The tension in Cloud's muscles melted as he arched an eyebrow. Based on Zack's expression, he had thought that Zack had gotten into a fight or something. "I did, but… why?"

"It was like having sex in a boat," Zack huffed, which had Cloud's cheeks reddening. " _That's_ why."

Cloud thickly swallowed. Out of all the things he had been expecting Zack to say, that _certainly_ had not been it. " _Excuse_ me?" he managed, sounding a bit strangled. Out of all the things to compare _coffee_ too…

And Zack, glaring all the while, replied, "That cup of coffee was _fucking close to water_ is what I meant, and the innkeeper had the iron balls to charge me _fifteen gil_ per cup. _Fifteen gil!_ It's a mugging, is what that is," he added under his breath as he began preparing Spirit for their ride. "I could have gotten a decent cup of coffee in the city for _two._ "

Cloud began to bridle Rain. "True, but at least they even had coffee out here."

Zack snorted. "You could hardly call that coffee. And if you had had some, you'd know what I mean."

"I did have some." Rain accepted the bridle with a flick of her ears, and Cloud continued, "I had three cups."

Zack turned to him, wide-eyed. _"Three cups?"_ he echoed.

A ghost of a smile turned Cloud's lips. "That's right."

"You paid for all of that?"

"I did." He left out the part that he desperately needed it, that he hadn't gotten any sleep during the night, and he couldn't risk falling off the saddle while they crossed the mountains today.

"And three cups at that… Is that why you're so wide awake?" Zack demanded.

Cloud's lips twitched. "Maybe."

"And your hands are shaking," Zack continued. But now there was a new tone to his voice, something deeper and a little more concerned. "You also got a wild look to your eyes, too."

At that Cloud's smile became a little softer, a little sadder, and maybe even a little darker. No, his eyes weren't wild. He had lost any sort of wildness within him a long time ago, back when he had been a child and had easily mistaken anger for wisdom and a loaded pistol for strength. Of course, it had only taken a single afternoon for him to grow up, and he had realized just how wrong he was…

A snort in his ear had Cloud jolting back to his present, and he idly placed a hand against Rain's neck.

"Must be the coffee," he said, answering Zack's earlier question.

Zack's eyes narrowed. "Three cups'll do that to you?"

"Sure."

Zack frowned at him for a moment, clearly not believing him, but then shrugged and continued preparing Spirit. "How did you sleep?" he asked. His voice was deceptively calm.

Cloud didn't even look Zack's way as he replied, "Fine."

Maybe it was Cloud's clipped tone, or maybe it was the obvious bruising beneath his eyes and the way his lips were pressed into a thin line, but Zack thankfully let the matter drop and it wasn't long until both boys were saddled up. It was time to go.

The rising dawn smudged the sky in shades of pinks and oranges as Cloud and Rain made their way through the rented pasture, with Cloud counting the herd and making sure that none of the cattle were left behind. His hot breath misted his cheeks as Rain trotted through the tall grasses. Birdsong filled the air, sweet and lilting. A stray cricket sang to the watercolor clouds. Cloud sighed in a breathless puff before he tilted his hat back and let his blue gaze shift upwards.

Though the sky was warming with its shades of orange and yellow, a few stars still sprinkled the sky's dark edges. _Things are better now,_ he reminded himself as he shifted against the hard saddle. _Everything is okay, and I'm just being paranoid._ He dropped his gaze back towards the pasture with a soft exhale, and his eyes flicked from oak to oak, from pine to pine, from picket fence to a wooden barn standing by its lonesome in the grasslands. _Besides,_ he thought as his grip tightened on the reins, _there's no one else here besides us and the cows._

With that thought firmly in mind, he called, "Ready to go?" across the pasture.

Zack threw a hand in the air in response and waved. Cloud waved back, and with a faint click of his heels against Rain's strong flank, she happily trotted back towards the main gate and Cloud closed it behind them.

It was time to continue their hard trip east.

* * *

The distant mountain range, which had been little more than a jagged violet-tinged smudge the day before, had grown into towering peaks and stark valleys as Cloud and Zack reached their base. The landscape was, simply put, extreme. Granite cliffs cut brutal edges into the sloping landscape. Pine trees clung to rocky outcroppings with only their roots. Rivers, which were so much bigger and deeper than the small creeks that snaked through the Strife property, angrily tore down the boulders and the bushy foliage that were unlucky enough to be in its path.

Zack whistled as he arched his head back and his eyes sought out the mountain peaks. "So this is what we're going to have to cross," he said.

His voice echoed strangely against the sheer walls of the valley, and Cloud lifted his own gaze. Snow dusted some of the mountain peaks, where their ragged edges cut deep into the clouds above them. Pine trees also became more common with the climbing altitude, and their tufts of sharp green were a welcome sight against the dull, brown landscape of stone and granite.

"The sooner we start," Cloud replied, once again shifting his weight within the saddle, "the sooner we can get this over with."

Zack harshly sighed. "Ain't that the truth," he muttered, and with a sharp _yip_ at Spirit, the two of them made their way to the front of the herd. In the meantime Cloud remained at the back, as his eyesight was the better between him and Zack, and kept watch on the herd as Zack guided them up the thin path.

And the path was _thin,_ thin enough that only a few cattle could stand side-by-side while trekking the mountain road, and Cloud held his breath at every bend, every steep drop, every dip in the road that would be so easy to slip down. A small fence had been erected at some of the worst turns and drop-offs, but its wood was old, peppered with holes caused by termites and weather, and emitted a ragged groan with every small breeze. There was no way it would save _anything_ that fell off the ledge… including himself, which had Cloud swallowing thickly. He _hated_ this part of the cattle drive.

Their progress was painfully slow due to how frail and treacherous the path was, but Cloud didn't mind their slow pace at all. Not only did it allow him to collect his thoughts, which had admittedly spiraled out of control during the morning, but the hike up would also be the hardest part of their journey today. They were lucky to hit it so early in the morning; it would have brutal to attempt the climb the mountain trail at midday, when the heat would be the strongest and the winds would undoubtedly pick up.

As they steadily gained altitude, the landscape began to change. Pine trees began growing thicker, and their trunks became warped from the high winds. Their bark flaked off onto the granite stones they grew around. Lichen stained rocks shades of oranges, yellows, and greens. Wildflowers grew alongside the trail, and their lush blooms warmed something inside Cloud as they trotted past.

The world seemed a little calmer way up in the mountains, a little brighter, and Cloud eventually found himself _enjoying_ the steep climb up the trail. He watched, quiet and contemplative, as hawks soared between mountain peaks and he listened to their shrill cries as they spotted prey. Yet his heart couldn't help but stutter when one suddenly dipped into a sharp dive, its wings folded tight against its body, before lifting up at the last possible moment with a mouse dangling from its hooked talons.

Cloud shakily inhaled and busied himself by looking at calmer things, such as the flowers growing beside the trail and the lakes sparkling beneath them. The river, which had thrashed so wildly at the base, had significantly calmed as well as the sloping valleys smoothed and evened. The silver bodies of fish flashed beneath the crystal-clear water. Moss hugged the banks in thick blankets of green. The air tasted like sage and rosemary, and as he deeply inhaled, the nightmares finally slipped entirely away and he was able to relax.

But he never unloaded his pistol. He may _feel_ a bit calmer, a bit more collected even, but he also wasn't stupid. Monsters roamed these lands, and he wasn't one to be caught unprepared.

Rain suddenly snorted beneath him, and Cloud managed a smile as he leaned over the saddle and scratched her behind the ears.

"How you doin', girl?" he murmured.

Rain only flicked her ears and ducked her head, tugging at the reins. Translated: this trail was boring, she couldn't see Spirit from their vantage point, and she wanted to stop and rest.

"We'll stop soon, I promise." Cloud lifted his head and squinted into the sunlight. It had gotten much brighter as the morning had crept on, and the midday heat was beginning to burn off the morning chill and mist. Yet compared to the dry heat that baked the grasslands below them, the warmth here was far kinder and far more agreeable. In fact, the temperature became almost _comfortable_ the higher they climbed.

That didn't come as a surprise to Cloud, however. Despite the slow pace of the herd, they had made some decent progress over the past few hours. If he peered over his shoulder, he could clearly make out the rolling bed of grasslands and trees stretching out beneath the mountainside. Smoke lazily curled up from the small settlement of Rocket Town and way off in the distance, beyond the tangled oak trees and the quiet creeks winding through the rolling hillsides, he could just make out brown smear of the dry lakebed stretched beneath the horizon. He knew that his property – his _home –_ was just a little ways beyond that, though he couldn't see it.

Maybe it was _because_ he couldn't see his property that homesickness drove a thin nail straight into his heart. Yet realization made him smile; but not because he missed his house, and not because he missed Tifa – though he did, desperately – but because he actually had a home to miss, because having somewhere to call _home_ was a luxury. It was a luxury he had taken for granted exactly once, and swore to never do so again.

A memory, though it was as worn and faded as a sun-bleached photograph, welled up within him with stunning clarity. His hands tightened on the reins. Hard leather dug into his bare palms, but the dull pain came as a welcome distraction – a _necessary_ distraction, and his gaze slipped over the edge of the trail and out to the open air, where hawks continued to soar unfettered and free through the jagged valley. Their shill cries pierced the air as they cut effortlessly through the wispy clouds.

He tore his gaze away, his heart pounding, firelight flickered in his mind's eye. _I'm fine,_ he reminded himself as a hawk cried above the winding trail. _I'm fine,_ he told himself as the wind gusted against the granite ledges and ripped fragments off of the stone. _I'm fine,_ he knew as pine trees rustled in the sudden breeze. _I'm fine,_ he thought as Rain's hooves kicked at the pebbles on the road, until gravity dragged them over the edge and crushed them against the cliff.

 _I'm fine,_ he lied.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He suddenly felt like he was being watched.

* * *

After Zack and Cloud guided the herd over the pass, a new challenge awaited them: now they had to descend into the valley, which was located on just the other side of the pass. Thankfully the descent was not nearly as steep as the ascent, and as the temperature was much cooler and the sun was still high, so they could afford to take their time. Lush meadows and small lakes dominated the scenery. Tiny creeks, fed from the snow located at an ever higher altitude, spiderwebbed through the vibrant grasses and fed the flowers blooming beside it. Butterflies fluttered from bloom to bloom. The air hummed with bees and dragonflies. The lakes' mirror-like surfaces reflected the lazy clouds high above, and the scenery painted such a peaceful picture that even Cloud found himself minutely relaxing in the saddle.

The herd, no longer confined to a thin trail, immediately began to spread out. Some meandered for the creeks and drank greedily, while others preferred to linger beneath the few trees that were tall enough to offer shade. Rain immediately began trotting towards Spirit, tossing her head and nickering a happy greeting, and Spirit swished his tail and pawed the ground.

Zack pushed himself off of Spirit with a harsh groan. "Rest here?" he asked; no, _demanded_.

Cloud slid off his saddle as well, and his knees almost buckled underneath him. "Sure," he grunted, and he went to find himself a nice spot to relax for a bit. Zack, on the other hand, had found himself a nice tree to nap underneath, and he was now sprawled out with his legs crossed and hat shading his closed eyes. His chest gently rose and fell with every deep breath, and one of his arms was slung haphazardly around a calf that had decided to settle down with him. Rain and Spirit simply grazed together, and their tails flicked into each other to make sure the other was nearby.

Instead of catching up on sleep, Cloud had decided to sit cross-legged on one of the many granite boulders that dotted the meadow. His hat shaded his eyes as he gazed across the lakes and to the pine trees on the other side, their trunks standing tall and proud amongst the stalks of grass. Colorful wildflowers bloomed at their bases. Crickets chirped, birds sang from the branches, and every once in a while, a fish would jump in the lake and send ripples cascading towards the muddy banks.

Cloud tried to focus. He tried to calm down, yet his nerves buzzed with nervous energy and his hard gaze flicked from tree to tree, boulder to boulder, mountain peak to mountain peak. His pistol sat on his lap, loaded and at the ready. His boots tapped against the lichen-stained stone in rapt impatience. A stick would occasionally break and cause him to startle, but it would either be a deer, a marmot, or a curious chipmunk wondering what was going on.

But it was never a person.

It was never Sephiroth.

Cloud's grip tightened on his pistol as he harshly exhaled. _You're being stupid again,_ he told himself, his tone harsh. While the wanted poster _had_ said that Sephiroth was heading west following his escape from the Midgar Jail, that certainly didn't mean that Sephiroth was _here._ He was being paranoid – _again._ After all, there was plenty of land between here in Midgar, not to mention two continents and an entire ocean, and the chances that Sephiroth would be on _this exact mountain_ , on _this exact day_ , was astronomically low. So low, in fact, that it was practically laughable. No rational person would even be concerned by it.

Cloud slowly exhaled, closed his eyes, and desperately tried to be rational. _I should really get some sleep,_ he told himself _._ Exhaustion was only making his paranoia – the same paranoia that had chased him ever since he saw that damn poster back in Rocket Town – so much worse. And really, there was probably nothing to worry about. They were in the middle of the mountains. There was no one else around for miles.

Probably.

 _But what if you're wrong,_ his mind whispered in the dark, _and Sephiroth is just over that hill?_

Cloud thickly swallowed as anxiety sang in his blood, its tune sharp and off-key.

 _What if he found you again?_ his mind continued to taunt. _What if he wanted revenge for your betrayal, even though he_ _ **saved**_ _you?_

Cloud squeezed his eyes shut, and just like that, an image suddenly fluttered through his mind's eye: a shattered beer bottle, a large body sprawled the floor, an abalone-hilt pistol still smoking in Sephiroth's small hands…

… and he snapped his eyes open, his heart pounding hard and erratic beneath his ribcage. A bird cried out in the distance. A dry wind hushed through the valley, and the trees rustled beneath it. Birds continued to sing, and he slowly, painfully exhaled, one hand clenched around his pistol and the other snagging the fabric above his chest.

 _It's fine,_ he told himself as he slowly lifted his gaze, out across the lake and to the pines standing tall on the other side. _I'm in the middle of nowhere. There's no one else here besides me, Zack, the horses, and the herd._ He thickly swallowed and lifted his gaze a bit higher, where the meadow ascended the valley until granite and broken stone cut it off in a hard line. _It's fine._ Still his eyes climbed, until the stones and lichen became dusted with snow, and then he dragged his gaze to the ridge. _It's fi -_

His heart stopped dead in his chest.

There, just peaking above the nearby ridge, was a rider astride a silver mare. But it wasn't the mare that had Cloud staring speechless, nor was it how the horse pawed the ground and set bits of stone cascading down the hill's steep slope that had Cloud inhaling a jagged breath. Instead, it was the rider's silver hair that had Cloud strangled. How though the rider's eyes were hidden beneath his hat, there was no mistaking the green glint to his gaze, nor the cruel smirk to his lips as he looked down over the ridge… directly at him.

" _No._ " Cloud's voice was little more than a shivering breath between his lips. "Please, _no_."

He didn't know what he was praying to; he didn't believe in the gods, and he certainly didn't believe in any other higher power. Yet pray he did, even as the rider inclined his hat towards Cloud in greeting before turning his mare around, only to disappear down the other end of the ridge a moment later.

Cloud sharply exhaled the breath he had been holding, and his hand clawed at his chest; it was suddenly very difficult to breathe.

 _No,_ he thought, and his internal voice was withered and pained. _No, no, no._

That… That _couldn't_ have been him. The chances were so astronomically low, the probability so faint that it should have been pointless to think about, and he _had_ to have just be getting paranoid…

Except there was no denying what his eyes had just seen. What he had just witnessed over that ridge.

It was _him._

It was Sephiroth.

Cloud squeezed his eyes shut. His brother had escaped from jail, had somehow found him, and was now here to settle old debts.

The wind whispered through the valley with a ghostly howl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that 🤣 I have nothing to say to defend myself.
> 
> If you want chapter five previews (or just want to yell at me because, yeah, my bad lol), free free to [follow me on twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z)! You can also find a link to my Ko-Fi page there if you'd like to support my writing via caffeine (though of course, there is absolutely no pressure to do so - if you're happy with the story, then I'm happy 🥰)
> 
> Until next update - have a good one, and I wish you all the best 💙


	5. The Campfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ✨ a n g s t ✨

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warnings** : SMUT, some blood
> 
> Happy Friday ☀️
> 
> I hope you all had a good week! Things have been crazy on my end; work is hectic and so is life in general lol, but at least it's gotten colder so I could pull out all of my blankets and sweaters 🥰 Also as usual, huge thank you to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for editing this chapter! Idk why I make so many little typos lol
> 
> Enjoy the chapter 💙

Moonlight brushed a loving hand against the windowsill. It then slipped down the to the floor and lingered there, quiet and blushing, while stars flickered up above and clouds whispered across a twilight sky. Crickets chirped between stalks of wheat. Chickens faintly clucked as they settled in the murky dusk. Something rustled the grasses, a hush of wind pushed through the sweeping tree branches, and peace murmured throughout the Strife property.

A faint moan broke through the night.

Tifa Strife’s breaths steamed the air as she slipped a second finger deeper into her slit. The tip slid in effortlessly and warm slick coated her finger; it seeped out of her entrance, gathered at her junction, and smeared against her thighs as tension coiled deep in her belly. It was a knot that twisted and flipped and rippled with every push against her hard nub, and her eyelashes fluttered as another moan trickled out from her throat.

_I wish Cloud was here._

The thought slipped across her mind without her bidding, and then it was all she could think about. Her mind was filled with the thought of her husband; of his easy smiles, his gentle laughs, how his calloused fingers were always so soft against hers. She thought about how his gaze would linger on her wedding band, how his expression would soften a moment before lifting to meet her eyes.

Her back arched off of the bed as she recalled other things, too; such as the way his cock would push against the walls of her slit, his small gasps when she’d nip his ear, the way he would lose their rhythm as he rocked against her, hips bucking, eyes rolling, hot breaths splashing between them as if there wasn’t enough air in the room…

Another breathless moan spilled from her lips as she, unable to stand it a moment longer, slid in a third finger and ground against it. Tension built and heat gathered within her. The bedsheets tented between her open legs. Cold air clashed against the warmth of her body as she quickened the pace, and her body rocked against her fingers. Hot slick gathered between her legs, and her breaths became uneven, rapid, _uncontrolled_ as she thought about one thing:

_Cloud._

The stunning heat that had pooled within her expanded, exploded, _released,_ and then fire flicked across her skin and stars danced in her eyes. She had the faint sense that someone had cried out, and that that _someone_ was her.

But then it was over.

The lava that had burned through her very core faded all too quickly, and it left nothing but unsatisfying ash and dust in its wake. Through the ringing in her ears, she could make out the brush of curtains and the distant howls of coyotes and other creatures, and the chill of the nightly air replaced the fire that had singed her nerves just moments before. She let her head fall back with a breathless sigh, and her dark hair fanned across the pillow as she thought:

_Where is Cloud now?_

Her carmine eyes traced the imperfections of the ceiling as her panting slowly evened. By her reckoning, he and Zack should have made it through Rocket Town by now. If they had hurried they might have been able to reach Corel by tonight, but the mountains were treacherous and Cloud wasn’t used to cattle driving – not like Zack was anyway, as he had been raising cattle for several years now.

 _No, they would be camping in the mountains somewhere,_ she decided matter-of-factly. Cloud wouldn’t rush a cattle drive – it simply wasn’t in his nature, even if he _did_ seem over-eager for money recently – but even if he was so inclined, Zack probably wouldn’t let him anyway. Zack always did seem to have a way with Cloud… though maybe it was only because he had been Cloud’s superior back in their Ranger days.

 _But_ _that was a long time ago_ _,_ she reminded herself, and she slowly sat upright and stretched her arms above her with a muffled groan. Her shoulders popped from the effort. It was hard work managing the entire property by herself, though there wasn’t much left to do; she had already done all of the laundry, had tended to her small garden, and had even made a fresh loaf of bread for the week. All that was left was to monitor the wheat fields, plan out their finances for the next few months – including decided how to price the wheat for sale, which filled her with dread – and then sharpen the tools required to _cull_ the wheat…

She rubbed her eyes; just _thinking_ about what was left exhausted her, but she knew that it would be worth it. Having everything already prepared for the harvest would be a nice surprise for Cloud when he returned. _But hopefully_ _when he does return_ _,_ she thought as she glanced out of the foggy window, _he’ll return_ _far rich_ _-_

But the thought was cutoff halfway because at that exact moment, something moved. Tifa’s gaze narrowed; the windowpane’s glass was warped and murky, which made it difficult to see, and all she could make out was a darker silhouette against the night. Yet a few moments later, when it passed beneath the silver light of the moon, she could see it clearly: a rider astride a horse, their head angled towards the house.

Tifa pushed herself off the bed, lips lightly parted in confusion as adrenaline flickered through her. _Cloud?_ she wondered, but then immediately pushed it aside. Of _course_ that wasn’t Cloud. Cloud was miles upon miles away, and besides, this rider was built far bigger than Cloud was. While Cloud was more on the leaner side, this man was built like a tree; his shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt while his chest pulled at the buttons, and a cruel smirk – an expression she knew that Cloud would never make – was cut crooked into his square face. As for the rider’s horse, it was a large, speckled stallion while Rain was a rich, caramel-coated mare.

In summary, this man was _certainly_ not Cloud.

Disappointment lingered in her chest, but she impatiently pushed it aside for more logical sensibilities. _Is he lost?_ she wondered as she put on a thin slip, just to appear more modest… as well as hide any evidence of her earlier activities. _Has to be, to end up way out here…_

She glanced to the window once again, and was surprised to see the rider – still off by the main gate – already staring inside. Their eyes met through the glass, and he smiled in response. His teeth were startlingly white. His lips were thin and pale. Something glimmered in his eyes, something that had a shiver crawling up Tifa’s spine, and then her gaze dropped towards his hands.

He was holding a knife _._

She could see its wickedly sharp edge glint beneath the starlit sky, could see how its hilt twisted and disappeared beneath the man’s large hand, and all thoughts that this was just a simple lost rider went stagnant. For him to be holding a knife before he even tried knocking on the door…

… Well, he was either extremely paranoid or he wasn’t here to ask for directions, and if Tifa was a betting woman, she would bet on the latter.

So she grabbed a gun. Cloud always kept a Springfield Trapdoor rifle hidden in the dresser ‘just in case,’ and its metal was cold in her grasp as she lifted it out from behind the dresser’s false back. As it was Cloud’s rifle back when he had been a Ranger, it was worn with both time with use, but it had also been well cared for and its condition was as flawless as the day it had been made. With practiced hands she loaded a bullet, her fingers brushing across its ice-cold brass casing, before she cocked the hammer and rested it onto her shoulder.

There was a knock on the door.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she made a move towards the door – the stranger had seen her through the window, so it was too late to pretend to be asleep – and yet something held her back. Her hand tightened against the gun.

“Who is it?” she demanded. _There – a safe question._

A grunt, then: “Loz. Loz Simmel,” the strange rider replied. His gruff voice was muffled by the door. “Can I come inside?”

 _Come inside?_ Every sense within her _screamed_ to keep this stranger out of her home, and she shouted, “If it’s directions you’re after, then I’ll shout’em through the door!”

The stranger, Loz, laughed. It was a dry, scuttling sort of sound, much like a cockroach rummaging the undergrowth. “Directions?” he repeated, chuckling all the while. “No ma’am, I ain’t want directions. I’m lookin’ for someone. You’re Tifa Simmel, correct?”

“Strife,” Tifa corrected immediately, though the word _Simmel_ became tangled in her thoughts. She had a feeling like she had come across that name before, though she couldn’t remember why… “There aren’t any Simmels here,” she continued, “but if you go ‘bout a half-days ride towards the east, you’ll come cross a town -”

“No?” Loz interrupted, sounding genuinely surprised. “But… But he said...” His voice trailed off, and then he mumbled, “Did big brother _lie_ to me?”

 _Big brother?_ “Listen,” she began, “there ain’t any Simmels on this property, or any of the properties near here. Now you best be leaving, but I wish you the best of luck on your search…”

With that she began to turn away, but then Loz shouted, _“No!”_ The force of his shout just about rattled the doorframe. “If you’re Tifa, then my big brother said that you have to come with me. That way, we can surprise our other brother,” he added, his tone pitching upward. “Sephiroth said that he’d really like that.”

“Sephiroth?” Tifa quietly echoed, and then it clicked: _Of course._ The continent’s most infamous outlaw Sephiroth Simmel, the man solely responsible for the robbery and butchering of a dozen towns, who had also been sentenced to maximum-security jail back in the city of Midgar. Rumor had it that he also had a younger brother who was just as deadly and cruel, if not more so, to the point of being called a devil…

… _And right now,_ she realized in abject horror, _that younger brother is standing right outside my front door._

“Leave!” Her grip tightened on the rifle. “If you don’t, I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” he asked, and then he suddenly hit the door. The wood creaked and splintered beneath the heavy blow, and Tifa’s harsh gasp clawed out from her throat. “Sorry, but I gotta take you with me. My big brother asked me to.”

He hit the door again. The door cracked, and Tifa immediately knew that it wouldn’t hold even a handful more hits. Whether she liked it or not, that man would be getting into her home… and he probably didn’t have just a knife on him.

So she turned and ran. Her bare feet slapped against the cold floorboards as she threw herself behind a corner. The door groaned as it was broken and crushed. Its hinges squealed as it bent, and then with a loud crack, the door broke away entirely.

A chilly night breeze pushed its way into the house, and with it came the sent of sage, rain, and metal. Icy terror trickled down her veins as she pressed herself into the back wall, her fingers clenched around the rifle, and waited, _listened_ as the floorboards groaned beneath heavy footsteps and muffled breathing hissed against the walls.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Loz was saying. His voice suddenly had a child-like quality to it, as if he was confused by her hiding. “We just wanna surprise our other brother. I’ve never met him, see? Even though we’re family.”

Tifa hadn’t known that Sephiroth had a third brother, but at that point, she really didn’t care. _Now or never,_ she told herself, then sharply inhaled and flung herself into the hallway.

Loz loudly cursed as he backpedalled, his silver hair nearly luminous in the dark, and then she saw his pistol gleam in the dim light. Yet she tried her best to ignore it, and only crouched down – just like Cloud had taught her long ago – and pressed the butt of the rifle against her shoulder, exhaled a calming breath, and then pulled the trigger.

Yet nothing happened but a dull click.

Tifa’s eyes widened in alarm – _Did I do it wrong? Did I forget to load it?_ \- but then it hit her:

 _The gun’s jam_ _med_ _._

The blood drained from her face as realization settled cold in her gut. _It jammed,_ her mind repeated in numb horror, and then the rifle was suddenly kicked from her hands. Pain lanced up her wrists as the gun skidded uselessly across the floor.

“Damn gyp,” Loz hissed as he lowered his leather-leg. “You could’v shot me.” His voice had a twisted, mocking edge to it, and yet it was his eyes that had Tifa’s eyes widening. She hadn’t noticed before but they were slitted like a cats and were an unnatural shade of green, like dyed jade or mold bleached by the sun…

Her eyes widened further. _He’s not a man,_ she realized with deathly stillness, _but a devil._ With slitted eyes like that he _had_ to be, and then she was backpedaling, her breaths raw and grating against her throat. Fear scorched her nerves and left her shaking, teeth chattering, darkness trickling in the corners of her vision like night creeping across a blushing sky.

Everything about Sephiroth Simmel’s younger brother had been true: He truly _was_ a devil.

Loz stepped over the rifle on his way towards her, his slitted eyes pinned on her the entire while. His lips were curved into a sharp frown, the sort of frown that promised a tragedy, and the floorboards were cold against Tifa’s palms as she pushed herself backwards. Pain flared in her wrist, but she hardly noticed. “Get away from me,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “Don’t come any closer.”

Yet the green-eyed devil didn’t seem to have heard, or perhaps he was just ignoring her outright. “Listen here,” he began. His one hand grasped a dagger; the other carried a sleek pistol. “I’d rather we not fight, you understand me? Because you see, my big brother said that I gotta take care of you. Get you back to ‘im in one piece, because if I don’t, our other brother would be upset.”

But Tifa had hardly heard him. While he had been speaking he had taken slow, deliberate steps towards her, and she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the light dancing strangely in his eyes. “Stay away,” she hissed. She backed up until she could back up no further, until the bumps and ridges of her back pressed uncomfortably against the wall, and her chest rose and fell with every panicked breath. “Get _away_ from me.”

“But you see, I think I jus’ realized somethin’.” He spun his pistol in his other hand, the finger caught in the trigger. “Because I’ve been wonderin’ why you said there ain’t no Simmels here, but then I remembered the sign on the arch outside. _Strife,”_ he sounded out, slowly and deliberately, as if he was testing the word on his tongue. “Sounds close. But not quite.”

 _“Leave,”_ she ground out. She had listened to these crazy rambling for long enough, and sh forced her legs to stand and her trembling arms to push herself upright. Loz only lifted a delicate, silver eyebrow. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Or what?”

The thin skirt of her slip spilled over her calf as she lowered her center of gravity. “Or this,” Tifa replied and snapped forward, her hand cocked back in a tight fist. The man didn’t expect it; his slitted eyes widened as her knuckles connected with the swell of his cheekbone, and then he was stumbling backwards, hand pressed against the new bruise and curses spilling from his lips.

She may be a housewife now, but once upon a time she had owned a bar and had broken up more than her fair share of brawls. Fighting with her fists came far more naturally than guns, but she also wasn’t stupid. Her fists would be useless against daggers or pistols.

She darted into the kitchen, hair undone and wild as she slammed open one of the cupboards. Her trembled hands scrambled for a knife, panic sloshing within her like an overfilled glass, until something – a hand on her throat – yanked her backwards. There wasn’t even enough time to blink before she was slammed against the ground. Stars spun dizzily around her.

“You’ll pay for that, gyp,” Sephiroth’s younger brother ground out. A fresh bruise was already blossoming against his pale cheek and blood trickled from his nose, only to drip to the ground and stain the light wood a shade of scarlet. “See, I tried to be nice to you an’ all seein’ as how yer family now, but -”

Tifa twisted her body and, with a pained grunt, wrapped her thighs around his neck and _pushed._ His words were cut off by a wheeze, one that was accented by his back slamming against the ground. Shelves rattled. Dressers shook. Cups and mugs clinked about behind glass cupboards. One fell and shattered as Tifa scrambled onto her feet, wrist flaring painfully, but she didn’t notice. Everything within her had collapsed into one singular focus:

_I need a weapon._

With her next breath she was at the knife drawer, but this time she was quicker. Her fingers wrapped around the icy handle of a knife – _a paring knife,_ she realized a half-second later – and then she was swinging, the dwarfed blade flashing she thrust it downward… but then he moved, a blur of motion, and a harsh metallic sound rang clear in the air as her knife slammed down onto his dagger.

Rage flickered in his slitted eyes. “You’ll regret that,” he hissed, and then there was a dull click as he cocked his pistol. She saw it a moment later, saw its black barrel aimed directly at the center of her chest, saw how it hovered unmoving in his pale hand.

Any thought within her sputtered and died as she realized, with crystal clarity, just how fragile she was. If she got shot by something like that…

“Drop the knife,” he ordered.

Bright madness flickered in Loz’s horribly slitted eyes, and Tifa only clenched her jaw and gripped the knife all the tighter. If she was going to die -

\- _I’m sorry, Cloud_ -

\- then she was going to die fighting.

* * *

From Cloud’s viewpoint on the mountainside, the stars looked eternal, ethereal, and untouchable. Not even the moon’s silver glow could chase away the faint blinks in the sky, their numbers so vast that they appeared to be more like dusty clouds sweeping the heavens than individual pinpricks of light. Nebulas swept across the night like abstract art. Clouds created hazy patchworks within the diamond-like clusters. Wolves sang their questions to the moon, and their answers echoed hauntingly through the deep canyons and valleys that made up the Corel mountain range.

The stars above and the mountain air below, filled with its songs and rustles, painted an idyllic picture, and yet Cloud could not find rest. His eyes felt like sandpaper, yet they remained stubbornly open. His gaze flicked from tree to tree. His hand remained draped on his pistol. Firelight from their cheery campfire stained his blue eyes a bloody scarlet, and his thoughts tumbled backwards as he recalled the day.

Even though Zack had noticed something was wrong earlier, his questions and worried looks had gotten the dark-haired man nowhere. Cloud had remained tight-lipped and only said his well-rehearsed lines: _Everything_ _is_ _fine_. _Just want to get to Corel soon._ _Just tired and sore is all._

It was all a lie. His breath stuttered between his lips as he thought, _I couldn’t say it._ He had wanted to tell Zack about Sephiroth the moment he had seen him, but the words had died in his throat and rotted on his tongue. Doubts spun wild in his mind: _What if I’m wrong? What if I was just seeing things? What if that was someone else?_ \- and he wished, with desperate abandon, that all of his doubts were true. He wished it with every fiber of his being, because to reopen _that_ particular scar and bleed it freely upon the ground… Well, he needed to be certain. He had to _know._

He went for a walk.

He got up, as quietly as possible so he did not disturb Zack or the horses, and he began an upward trek. The valley they were camped in was cradled between two mountain peaks, and their jagged edges were cut by granite and windswept, worn-down trunks that appeared like ghosts beneath the silver night. Proud pines formed green clusters against the crags. Loose rubble shifted beneath his boots. His legs, sore from riding, screamed in protest as he ascended the mountain-side, and yet he did not stop until the campfire was an orange fleck far below him and he could count the herd within the mountain’s shadow, until their white bodies formed constellations that mirrored the stars.

He watched them for a moment, expression unreadable, before he turned around and continued walking. Something drove him on; a wild notion, a haunted memory, a vague sense that a tragedy was approaching and, much like standing in front of a moving train, he could only wait patiently to get mowed down. But wait he did, with his arms outstretched and chin held high, because if fate had taught him one thing it was that the train _was_ coming… and the least he could do was greet it when it arrived.

The moon lit the path before him and softened the edges of the rocks he trod on, making the world seem kinder and gentler by comparison. It was almost peaceful way out here with only the stars for company, and as he tilted his chin towards the sky and his exhale misted the nebulas, he wondered if he really had been imagining things earlier. Maybe exhaustion and his back-to-back rides were making him see things, because Sephiroth _couldn’t_ be here… could he? They were out in the middle of nowhere, after all. The odds of him actually _being_ here…

 _I’m being ridiculous,_ Cloud told himself with a faint shake of his head, and he had almost talked himself into returning to the herd and getting some sleep when a hawk’s cry pierced the night.

Hawks were not nocturnal animals. They hunted during the day and slept during the night, and besides, there was a strange lilt to this cry, a warp that no hawk could ever imitate.

Worse: he _recognized_ that cry. Goosebumps peppered his skin as his feet moved forward without thinking, much like a puppet hanging by the strings of old memories. Every step brought him closer to a grove of pine trees nestled against a crook in the ridge, and though something within him screamed in protest with every dragging footfall, his walk nevertheless continued. The trees’ sweeping branches blotted out the sky as he passed underneath them. Their needles bit into his skin as he brushed them aside. The underbrush cracked and crinkled beneath his boots, and the stars vanished behind a ceiling of thorns and sharp edges.

Then he saw it: a tinge of orange against the grove’s mossy green. Firelight flickered, hidden in the dark, and cold dread curled deep in his gut.

_No._

It was a nameless sort of weight, a heaviness that no combination of words could describe.

_Please, no._

Each step felt like he was walking towards something’s end, a finality that he couldn’t put his finger on _,_ the knowledge that he would be walking out of this grove changed.

_This can’t be happening._

He wanted to turn around, to run away and stumble down the gravel until he was back beside his cheery campfire yet his legs forced him onward, one step at a time, until firelight flickered across his pallid features and his gaze rested on the back of a man he knew so well.

_Sephiroth._

His hair had gotten longer since Cloud had seen him last; whereas Sephiroth’s silver hair had been cropped short, it was now loosely tied back in a ponytail that nearly kissed the ground. His shoulders had also broadened, and nestled on his hip was a familiar pistol with an abalone hilt. Scars, little more than a silver lines, crisscrossed his wrists and hands.

“Well?” Sephiroth’s smooth, deep voice carried across the grove, and Cloud just about flinched. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

It took Cloud a moment to find his voice, but once it did… “What are you doing here?” he managed to croak out. He crossed his arms across his chest to hide the faint trembling in his hands. “You… You’re supposed to be...”

“And _w_ _here_ am I supposed to be, Cloud?” There was a rustle of fabric as Sephiroth got to his feet, and then he slowly turned around. He was a full head taller than Cloud, which would have forced the younger man to tilt his head to meet his older brother’s eyes.

Yet Cloud did not raise his head. Instead he kept his gaze straight forward, wide-eyed with lips parted in mounting horror, as the urge to _run_ sang shrill through his veins… but if he _had_ looked up, he might have noticed that Sephiroth’s eyes were green instead of blue. He might have also noticed that they were slitted in a way no human being’s eyes were… but because he did not look up, he did not notice anything at all but the dirt he stood on.

He also didn’t notice Sephiroth’s smile, which was little more than a pale slit against his lips. “Tell me,” he ordered, and he reached forward to place a gloved hand on Cloud’s shoulder. The younger man jerked as if he had been struck. “ _Tell me,_ ” Sephiroth said again, and his voice lifting into the demand. “Where do you think I should be, _brother_?”

Cloud didn’t want to say it, and yet his traitorous body responded anyway. “M – Midgar,” he said in little more than a breathless gasp. How small he suddenly felt. “You’re… supposed to be in Midgar.”

 _Because I put you there,_ a small part of him whispered.

“That’s right.” The grip on his shoulder tightened, almost to the point of becoming painful. “And I’ve had a lot of time to think since then, Cloud. A lot of time to contemplate how we wound up on such different paths despite our similar upbringing. And then I realized something.”

Cloud held his breath as he waited for his older brother’s next words.

“I realized,” Sephiroth continued slowly, “that I was too _lenient_ with you. That I put too much _trust_ in you, and because of that, you overestimated your _worth_. _”_ Sephiroth took a step backward then; his eyes were strangely bright as he looked down at Cloud, and his pistol glinted in the firelight as he loftily continued, “But I have returned. Of course, I have since then found a _new_ family -” Cloud winced “- but I _am_ willing to forgive you for what you have done. But there will be consequences.”

 _Consequences,_ Cloud’s mind echoed, and he closed his eyes. “… No.”

There was a pause, then: “No?”

“I’m not going back, Seph. I’m not… I’m not a _killer_ anymore.” His voice was fragile, as if he was once again eleven and unsure of the world. His hands clenched into fists. “I don’t want to _hurt_ anyone anymore, and I don’t want to steal anything. I… I just can’t _live_ like that again. That’s not a life, that’s just…”

… _a prison sentence._ Yet whatever he had been about to say died in his tongue, because at that moment he lifted his head and his blue eyes met Sephiroth’s emerald gaze.

He paled. “Seph… your _eyes._ What… What _happened_ to you? By Shiva, your _eyes_...”

Sephiroth’s gaze hardened. “Don’t play the hypocrite, Cloud, _”_ he nearly snarled -

– and then, without warning, stars exploded in Cloud’s vision and he hit the ground, _hard_. Confusion laced his thoughts; he hadn’t even _seen_ Sephiroth’s movements, yet now his ears were ringing and the taste of copper filled his mouth. All he could do was blink blindly at a spinning world and fumble to get his arms beneath him. _Wha_ _t_ _just…_

 _“_ I didn’t return to listen to your false brotherly sympathy or your emotional ramblings.” Sephiroth’s voice was just as cold and sharp as splinters of ice. “After you ensured that I would be sentenced to death, I killed any familial attachments I might have felt towards you, and I suggest you do the same.”

“Then why… are you here?” Cloud ground out. Blood stained his teeth pink, and his lip stung from where it had split. Warmth trickled down his chin and dripped freely onto the ground. “Why come back?”

Sephiroth smiled at that, yet it held no joy nor warmth. It was all teeth and sharp edges, and he knelt so that Cloud and he could see eye to eye. “Because I want you on your knees,” he stated, voice low and hard. “I want your head bowed and your hands bleeding. I want my name to taste like blood on your tongue; I want to make you _repent_.”

Cloud lifted his head defiantly. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t, then I will have my men kill the woman you call your wife. Tifa, correct?… Ah, must be,” he added as the blood drained from Cloud’s face. “Pretty thing. Dark hair, nice smile. I’m impressed Cloud, and yet also… surprised. While I was rotting away in a jail cell,” he murmured, the words dripping from his lips like poison, “you decided that it would be okay if you got yourself a family? Was I not good enough, even though I saved you from -”

“You wouldn’t hurt her,” Cloud cut in. Panic thrummed his veins; his ears rang, and not from his recent blow. “Not even you would -”

“Stoop that low?” Sephiroth finished. Madness warmed his slitted eyes, and his smile sharpened. “Cloud, if you truly believe that after all the time we spent together… then you must not have been paying attention.” With that his gaze briefly dropped down to his pistol, to the abalone hilt that mirrored the dancing fire, before it darted back up to Cloud. “You recognize this gun, don’t you?”

Cloud thickly swallowed, and said nothing.

“As I thought,” Sephiroth hummed, and stood back up to his full height. Turning towards the flame so that his back faced Cloud, he continued, “In Corel there’s something that I desire. The mayor of that town – Barret Wallace, I believe his name is – has a key to the town jail in his desk, as well as a pretty five thousand gil. I want both the key and the money in two days time. Meet me outside of town beside the old well. And one more thing,” he added as Cloud slowly, painfully, pushed himself upright. “If you tell that Ranger friend of yours that we spoke… Well, I suppose that means that you aren’t as close to your wife as I thought. Which would be regrettable, though I would take great pleasure in killing her myself.”

Cloud glared at him. “I wish you had died,” he spit out. “I wish I had killed you back then.”

“I’m certain you do,” Sephiroth replied with a chilling smile. “But unfortunately, neither of us got what we really desired, now did we?”

 _But I did,_ Cloud thought for a brief, wild moment. He _had_ gotten everything he had ever wanted: someone to love, someone who loved him in return, some land of his own, a home on top of it. He had even gotten friends – _good_ friends, the sort that he could be proud of – and a life that had him wondering if this was all an elaborate dream.

But of course, as it was the case in all dreams, eventually he had to wake up. He only wished that he didn’t have to wake up so soon, that he could flip the pillow to the colder side and ask for five more minutes – just five, because his heart had become brittle from basking in the sun for too long, and he couldn’t remember what blood tasted like anymore.

“Well?” Sephiroth’s cool voice floated across the grove and tugged Cloud out of his thoughts. “Do we have a deal?”

Cloud closed his eyes -

\- _I’m sorry, Tifa -_

 _-_ and slowly opened his eyes once more. Their blue was harder now, colder, a tempered storm that raged above dark waters.

“Deal,” he replied, and damned himself to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I swear that this story will have a happy ending 😭💙 but in the meantime, I'm just gonna drown myself in the feels 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Quick announcement: the holidays are coming up, and I have a feeling it'll impact my writing schedule (aka, things may slow down a bit 😔). That said, I'll continue posting chapter snippets and writing updates on [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) so that everyone will have a rough idea of when the next chapter will arrive! You can find a link to my ko-fi there too if you'd like to support my work, but there's absolutely no pressure to do so - if you're happy with the story, then I'm happy 😊💙
> 
> Until next time: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 🥰💙


	6. The Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter Warnings: Blood_
> 
> \--------
> 
> Happy Sunday everyone! I hope you've been well 😊
> 
> So sorry that this chapter was so delayed! The holidays wrecked my schedule and life happens, but at least it's finally out now? I tried to avoid any terrible cliffhangers this time around lol
> 
> As always, thank you so much to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for editing this chapter! She's amazing at finding all of my typos, and there are quite a few lol
> 
> Enjoy the chapter 🐴🐮🌙

“Drop the knife,” Loz ordered. His voice was gruff and nasally, undoubtedly because of his broken nose – courtesy of Tifa. Blood spilled over his mouth like lipstick and down his chin like a poorly-chewed meal, and there it rained, one ruby droplet at a time, onto the floorboard just inches away from her bare feet. But she hardly noticed. Though she could feel its warmth splash against her toes, her gaze remained locked on the pistol pointed at her chest. Her carmen eyes traced its sleek barrel and the soot stains on its blackened muzzle, and she couldn’t help but wonder:

_Is this the way I die?_

Suddenly Loz jerked the gun to the side. “I said drop the knife, gyp,” he said again. His lips were bared, his teeth bloodstained. “Don’t make me ask again, ya’ hear?”

Tifa’s expression went stoney, and she slowly drew her arm forward. The knife dangled from her pinched fingers -

_-_ _I_ _’m sorry, Cloud -_

_-_ and then she threw it as hard as she could. The blade spiraled through the air in brief flashes of silver, true to course… and then uselessly embedded itself into the wall. Loz cursed and light flashed as he fired his gun; searing heat grazed her shoulder and a bullet slammed against the floor, but Tifa forced it from mind, forced herself not to care, and skidded into the kitchen counter. She ripped open the knife drawer and grabbed the first two she saw, then turned around and threw the first while pocketing the other.

Her second throw hit true, and Loz grunted as the blade sank into his chest. She could practically _hear_ its metal edge cut muscle and chip bone, and he stomach twisted in horror at the sight: the knife’s hilt stuck out at a right angle, the wound bloodless, Loz’s shirt pinched around it.

Her knees wobbled, and if it wasn’t for her hand splayed against the counter, she would have fallen. _It’s over,_ she knew.

But then Loz ripped the blade out. Her eyes widened as it clattered uselessly against the floorboards, and then she dragged her gaze back up. The wound was bloodless no longer, and yet Loz’s expression didn’t seem hurt or pained. Instead, he simply looked… angry. There was a rage in his expression that hadn’t been there before, a smolder to his eyes that promised she would regret that little move of hers.

“You’re dead, bitch,” Loz spat out, and Tifa – wild eyed, frantic, terror a song pounding in her veins – turned and ran.

_He didn’t die._

Her bare feet slipped across the hallway’s thin rug as she sprinted for the front door, her slip swaying about her knees.

_That should have killed him._

Moonlight spilled in through the cracks in the front door as she gripped the handle. It was icy against her clammy palm.

_But he didn’t even fall._

She twisted the doorknob just as a loud crack hissed through the air, and before she could blink, a bullet slammed into the door not even an inch away from her hand. Tifa gasped, a choked sound, but did not let go. If she let go of the door, she would _die._ If she did not get outside, Loz would _murder her._ And then -

\- and then the door was being pulled open out of her hands. Hope briefly flared, a songbird in her chest opening its eyes to the approaching dawn, only to get immediately crushed when she recalled that Cloud wouldn't be home for a few more days. He _couldn’t_ be here, and so she flew back into the wall, knife held between her and whatever new horror would spill into her home.

She pressed her lips together in a thin, wavering line. _This is it,_ she knew. She might have had a chance to survive against one intruder, but _two…_

But then the new intruder spoke, and all of Tifa’s panicked thoughts screeched to a startling halt. “I thought I had a strange feelin’,” a familiar voice said, and then the barrel ofa shotgun appeared over her doormat. A slender finger pressed lightly against the trigger. “Guess I was right.”

Loz’s gun swiveled from Tifa to the open door. “The _hell_ are you?”

“A concerned neighbor,” came the immediate response, and then there was a sudden blast of light and lead. The flash blinded Tifa and its echo sent her ears ringing, yet she could still make out the wet crunch of shrapnel digging into flesh, of metal pinging against bone, of the harsh impact of bullet fragments slamming against the wall. It sent her stomach twisting and rebelling, but she sharply inhaled to settle herself.

The impact had sent Loz flying against the wall, where he slumped to the floor and thankfully continued to lie there, eyes closed and motionless. The only indication that he was still alive was the faint rising and falling of his bloodstained chest. Tifa crossed her arms over her chest, and though she wanted to turn away, she found that she couldn’t. The sight of his broken, bloody body burned into her memory. She had a feeling that it would haunt her dreams as well.

“We need to tie him up,” she eventually managed to croak out.

Aerith stepped behind her, one hand still holding her smoking shotgun, the other draped against her round belly. “Or bury him,” she said haltingly. “He won’t be livin’ much longer.”

“No, he’ll stay alive. He’s a devil,” Tifa replied matter-of-factly. Despite the trembling in her limbs she managed to dig some rope out of the closet. It was strong, sturdy rope; Cloud had been saving it for when his lasso broke, but there were more pressing matters now. Standing over Loz’s unconscious body, she turned to Aerith and said, “Help me.”

There was no stopping the crack in her voice, and after a brief pause, Aerith’s expression hardened and she nodded. It was awkward business dragging Loz outside, but the two of them managed to prop him against the old oak tree. Loz’s head lolled uselessly to the side as they tied him up.

“Quickly now,” Tifa murmured as she pulled the knot taunt. “There’s no tellin’ when he’ll wake up.”

Aerith’s worked on securing Loz’s feet. “Tifa, I shot the man in the chest,” she murmured. To her credit, her voice didn’t even waver or crack. “So he… he ain’t wakin’ up. In fact…” She sighed and then stood up, pausing only to stretch her hands over her head. She groaned when her back popped. “Well, I don’t even know why we’re tyin’ him up instead of buryin’ him. Folk just.. don’t wake _up_ from shotgun blasts, you know?”

Tifa grit her teeth. “No, he’ll wake up,” she said again. “And when he does, he’ll be madder than a hornet. This here is the younger Simmel brother,” she added, which had Aerith’s eyes widening a fraction. Stories of the Simmels were known far and wide in this part of the land, and while the elder brother was known for his cunning, the younger one was best recognized as cruel. “And I know you’ve heard the stories, how the younger is a devil an’ all.”

Aerith’s glanced down at Loz with fresh eyes. “I have,” she said after a pause.

“Well, the stories are true.” Tifa gave the knot another good tug, just to make sure it was as secure as she dared hope it would be. “He had slitted green eyes like a snakes, and after I got a dagger in him, he pulled it out like it was nothing.”

Aerith glanced back to Tifa. “Truly?”

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.” Tifa stood up and glanced directly towards Aerith for the first time that night. The petite woman had her hands clasped under her round belly, her skirts were stained, her cheeks were flushed from the exertion, and her eyes had a wild look about them – the same look one gets when they shoot a man in the chest and watch his blood stain the floor.

Something within Tifa cracked. “Can I get you a water?” she weakly asked.

Aerith’s shoulders slumped. “Tifa...”

“Really, I should get you some water.” Tifa had already turned towards the house, arms hugged around herself. “This was… This couldn’t have been good for the baby, so maybe you should sit down while I… I clean up a little, and -”

But a sudden Aerith’s arms were suddenly around her. “I’m okay, Tifa,” Aerith murmured, and hugged her all the tighter. “I promise. I’ve lived on the land and can handle pretty much anything life throws at me by now,” she added, her tone just shy of teasing. “But… Are _you_ okay?”

Tifa thickly swallowed. “I...” She wanted to lie and say that she was. She wanted to say that she had seen her fair share of bar brawls back in Midgar and knew her way around a fight, that she was _fine,_ thank you very much.

But the words died on her tongue. Everything within her went brittle, fragile, bendable because tonight was _different_ from all of that. Bar brawls and a devil shooting at you in your own home was as different as the summer sky was from winter nights. Hell, she had thrown _knives_ at him. Her hand grazed her shoulder, and she remembered that she had been _shot._

Her eyes pricked with warmth. “I’m not okay,” she slowly, quietly admitted.

It was the confession that broke her completely. She couldn’t help it, and with one last, choked gasp, placed her hands against Aerith’s arms and allowed herself to cry.

* * *

_Winter had bled into spring, and that meant that the sky was gray, the air was heavy, and the world held its breath as it waited for either booming thunder or blooming daisies. There was also a tension in the air, like a knife bent to the point of breaking, and its sharp edge slid across Cloud’s skin as closely as a shave… except he didn’t know anything about that, not yet. He was still far too young to even dream about growing stubble, let alone cutting any off. It would be many years until he’d even think about something as adult as that._

_And yet he wished, with every wild beat of his wavering heart, that he was an adult **now**. Huddled as he was behind the broken wardrobe, all he could do was strain to hear the footsteps beyond the door and pray that they weren’t heading towards him. His wish was a prayer written out of anxiety and healing bruises, and it was so worn from use that its meaning had gone flat and stagnate; yet he clasped his small hands together and prayed anyway, to all of the gods both known and unknown, that the footsteps would continue past his door... only for his hopes to be beaten down when they stopped at the threshold._

_His fear was shrill in the resulting silence. The doorknob was turned, and terror tore through his mind in a shrieking soprano. His heart drummed wild in his chest when the door was forced open. His staccato pants clouded the air as the dust rained down, and a broken melody surged within him when he saw a large shadow on the other side._

_If he was an adult, he could have fought back. If he was big and strong like his brother, then he could have run away and never come back… but he wasn’t. He was small, and weak, and scared, and all he could do was press himself against the wall and squeeze his baby blue eyes shut…_

_… and then a gunshot echoed through the house. It ricocheted down the hall and spat red against the rug, and when all went silent and Cloud was brave enough to open his eyes, he noticed that the shadow had been replaced by a sharp smile and slitted green eyes…_

* * *

Cloud awoke with a start. Images flashed across his mind one after another, each one sharp and jagged, but they did not cut like a blade would. Instead, the memories bashed within his skull like a poorly wielded club. Each hit a little harder than the one before, and it was only by blinking straight into the rising sun could he force them all back to the dark, cobwebbed corners of his mind.

It must have only taken a moment to regain control, and yet it felt like an eternity. His breath whistled between his teeth. Cold sweat beaded on his brow. His palms, pressed flat against the ground, trembled against the dirt as he pushed himself upright.

In this position, he could see the valley stretched out before him, and it was stunning. The valley was dressed in the morning’s golden gown, and the gnarled oaks and whispering pines made up its proud gems. If it had been a dance, then the dance floor would have been the valley’s grassy meadows while the domed ceiling would have been the blushing skies above. If it had been a ball, then birdsong would have formed the symphony while the bellowing cattle would have sung the chorus.

Yet the notes hit sour, and the melody ran flat. Not even Rain’s gentle huffing as she pawed the ground gave him a measure of peace, and so he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, long and low, and willed his thoughts to calm. He had to focus on the job. Tonight, he and Zack would ride into Corel, trade the cattle for coin, and then…

He flicked his eyes back towards the jagged horizon. _And then I’ll uphold my end of the bargain,_ he thought. He and Sephiroth had made a deal on Tifa’s life and so he would play his part, no matter how much he hated it, no matter how nauseous it made him feel. If all that meant Tifa would be safe, then he would do anything Sephiroth would ask. He would fall on his knees if he had to.

 _But is that really keeping her safe?_ a small part of him whispered. _Are you really doing what’s best for her?_

Cloud grit his teeth and didn’t – _couldn’t –_ answer. Instead he forced himself to his feet and brushed a hand against his holster, just to make sure his pistol was still there. It was, which begged another question:

_Why didn’t I use it last night?_

It was another question he didn’t have an answer for, so with a bitter mood he made his way towards the campfire that Zack was tending. The fire was small but cheerful, and it merrily crackled and popped whenCloud held out his hands to warm them. Dirt created dark crescents in his fingernails. The contours of his palms were lined with brown. His boots were scuffed and his cheek smarted from last night’s blow, but if he closed his eyes and lost himself in the fire’s warmth, he could almost imagine that he was home with Tifa, happy and safe, amiss in the life he had built for himself.

But the heat only stung his wounds and stray embers burnt his palms, so it wasn’t long before he was opening his eyes once again.

Zack was also hunched by the fire, with a can of mash cupped in his palms and a tin mug of coffee lying nearby. The coffee was virtually untouched, as was his breakfast. His eyes were also bloodshot, dark bags lined his eyes, and his jawline was darkened by fresh stumble. He looked nearly as bad as Cloud felt.

Usually Cloud would have asked Zack if anything was wrong, but he did not feel like his usual self, and so he let the time pass in silence. The quiet gave him an opportunity to compose himself and to remind himself what needed to be done, which was: get to Corel, trade the cattle in for some coin, and then rob the mayor of Corel blind. In that order.

But then Zack broke that silence by loudly clearing his throat. “So,” he began. His voice was rusty and rough. “You gonna tell me what you were up to last night?”

Even the fire seemed to go cold at the question.

“Walkin’,” Cloud replied after a lengthy pause. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Zack’s expression remained unchanged as he stared into the dancing flames. “Really,” he said slowly.

“Really.”

“Then I suppose your bruised cheek is also from your walk?”

Cloud’s heart skipped a beat. “I slipped.”

Zack’s eyes flicked up to meet his, a clash of steel gray and sky blue. “Slipped,” he repeated.

“Slipped,” Cloud affirmed, and then reached down to grab a nearby stick. “The gravel is loose up the valley walls. Hard to keep your footing, so I think it’s best we make our way down towards the meadows.” He dragged the stick through the dirt in random twists and turns. “Don’t want to risk a broken leg on the horses or the cattle.”

For a long while, Zack didn’t reply. The silence stretched so long that eventually Cloud’s heart climbed up his throat and threatened to choke him, but finally Zack let out a long, deep sigh. “I suppose not,” he said, and clasped his hands against his lap. “Look, Cloud. We’ve been friends for a good long while now, and I consider you my brother.” He lifted his gaze. “You know that.”

Shame was acid on Cloud’s tongue, and he turned towards the fire to hide it. “I know,” he replied. Suddenly the campfire’s crackling and popping didn’t sound so cheerful. Instead it sounded like it was cursing him, accusing him of keeping secrets and speaking lies, reminding him of how little his word was worth.

Zack slowly exhaled. “And I also know the difference between a bruise caused from a fall, and a bruise caused by a hand,” he continued. “An’ I know that your bruised cheek is from the latter.”

Cloud continued to stare into the fire. “I slipped.”

But Zack continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And if you don’t want to talk ‘bout it, fine. I’ve known you long enough to know how stubborn you can be. But,” he added after a pause, “if you’re in any sort of trouble…”

“I ain’t,” Cloud lied.

“…then I hope that you’ll tell me, so that I can help you,” Zack finished. “Like, remember when you first joined the Rangers?”

Cloud’s lips tugged into faint smile. “I remember.”

“You were a piece of work back then. Still are,” Zack teased. “But… we were there for each other, Cloud. We helped each other. Saved each other’s life a handful of times, even. We’re _brothers_ at this point, and brothers _help_ each other.”

 _I wouldn’t know,_ Cloud almost told him, but held his tongue at the last second. “I think you’re overthinkin’ things, Zack,” he began after a lengthy pause. “Like I said, I’m fine. Jus’ couldn’t sleep much last night so I went for a walk, then took a bad step and slipped like an idiot. Maybe all this ridin’ is getting to me,” he added with something of a smile. “But nothing else happened, Zack. I swear it.”

It was strange, how easy lying had become.

Zack watched him for a long moment, but then the shadows in his expression faded. He ran a hand through his hair with a light chuckle. “Maybe this riding is getting to me, too. Makin’ me paranoid or something,” he said, and then got to his feet. Extending his hand to also help up Cloud, he continued, “Sorry for doubting you.”

Something inside Cloud withered. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just focus on gettin’ to Corel… should be there by this afternoon, maybe even earlier.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Zack said, then yawned and reached down to grab his coffee tin. “You want breakfast?”

“Nah.” Cloud ran a hand over Rain’s coat, and she shook her head in thanks. “I got bread, an’ I can eat in the saddle.”

“Coffee?” Zack asked.

Cloud would usually never say no to coffee, but coffee was bitter and his day was bitter enough. “No thanks, I have my water.”

Zack eyed in for a moment, but then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Soon the boys had saddled their horses and had begun the tedious task of gathering up the cattle, who all had the good sense to stay near the cam. Soon well on their way, their horses’ steps plodding against the soft earth and sky warm above them. The cattle bellowed as they walked.

Their destination was hidden somewhere on the horizon, and yet his gaze was tilted upwards. The Corel mountain range cupped them within its stoney hands, and peaking its jagged spires was an endless, rose gold sky. The rising sun stained the sweeping clouds shades of lilac. Hawks soared on thermals with their wings stretched taunt against the gentle gusts, and their wide arcs were slivers of black against the blue of his eyes.

He lowered his gaze, and pulled down the brim of his hat so that it shadowed his expression.

Earlier, he had described the dawn sky as _blushing,_ but he had changed his mind since then. The sky didn’t look as if it was blushing. Not in the slightest.

Instead, it seemed more like it was bruised.

* * *

The Corel mountain range was shaped like an M, with Rocket Town lying just outside the M’s first peak and the town of Corel lying within the M’s second dip. There, the eastern side of the mountain range blocked the wild storms coming off the Continental Ocean, while the center divide blocked the western squalls that came off the Wutai Sea. That meant that Corel was sitting on a very hot, very dry stretch of land.

That said, Corel was also one of the biggest towns on eastern side of the Continental Ocean. Back in the day it had been a busy mining town, but all of that disappeared when the silver dried up. Yet, like a stubborn splinter, Corel continued to hang on.The people got tougher, grittier, and found their living catering to the occasional traveler heading into or out of the mountains. Inn prices were cheap and so was the food, but the whiskey was the cheapest out of the lot. That was a mighty good thing, because thanks to recent happenings, Cloud had a feeling that he’d be drinking quite a bit tonight.

He also hoped, with every fiber of his being, that they wouldn’t encounter one of the monsters that made the land surrounding Corel home. The Land Worm was a particularly nasty one; its spines were extremely sensitive to vibrations, and so it would burrow deep in the sand and wait there for its prey to walk above it… and then, with its mouthful of razor-sharp, serrated teeth, eat them whole.He had only seen the monster once, and that had been a long time ago. He prayed that the second time wouldn’t be on this journey.

Thankfully the rest of the road was quiet – suspiciously so, Cloud thought as he dragged his gaze across the desolate landscape – and he and Zack reached Corel that afternoon with relatively little fanfare. It was easy to put the cattle in the open pasture, seeing as that would be their new home, and then they made their way to the town itself. Heat rippled off the golden sand in waves, but Rain didn’t seem to care in the slightest. She was simply happy to see civilization once again; her ears perked up at the first brown shack they came across, and her pace quickened with every subsequent building.

Cloud reached down and ran a hand across her mane. “Easy, girl,” he murmured as they passed an old, dilapidated well. “Almost there.”

He knew that he should be excited, maybe even relieved, to have finally reached Corel. All of the cattle had made it. No one had gotten sick or injured – _well, not too injured,_ he amended as he placed a quick hand on his swollen cheek – and above all, he could finally drop off the cattle and go _home._ He could see Tifa again. He could mend their fences, tend their field, and relax for a spell or two. Hell, he was even excited to see the damn _chickens_ again.

And yet something within him squirmed at the thought of reaching Corel because if he was _here,_ then he had to uphold his end of the bargain. He closed his eyes shut as Sephiroth’s words echoed within him:

_“In Corel there’s something that I desire. The mayor of that town – Barret Wallace, I believe his name is – has a key to the town jail in his desk, as well as a pretty five thousand gil. I want both the key and the money in two days time.”_

Cloud opened his eyes and stared at the town spilled out before him, sick with dread.

“ _Meet me outside of town beside the old well. And one more thing… If you tell that Ranger friend of yours that we spoke, well, I suppose that means that you aren’t as close to your wife as I thought. Which would be regrettable, though I would_ _get_ _great pleasure in killing her myself.”_

“Cloud?” A sudden voice snapped Cloud out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Zack riding beside him. The man’s lips were pursed in concern. “You feelin’ okay? Seemed a bit… _dazed_ for a moment. You drinkin’ enough water?”

“You’re nannying me,” Cloud accused. “I’m fine, jus’ tired is all. And happy to finally reach Corel.”

Zack chuckled. “Me too. Can’t wait for a proper shower and a hot meal.”

“You can say that again,” Cloud replied with a brittle laugh, and then jerked his head towards the edge of town. One lone building stood away from the others, and a single tree grew out of the cracked earth to shade its front door. “So, stable is thata’way, while the inn is up the terrace, in the big brown building over there. How ‘bout you get the horses and cattle settled while I negotiate the inn price. See, the woman that owns the place knows me -”

“Because you cheated her husband at cards?” Zack smirked.

“- because I stayed at that inn last time,” Cloud finished, frowning now, “and she’ll give me a good deal. I don’t cheat at every card game, I’ll have you know.”

Zack grinned, boyish and lopsided. “Sure you don’t,” he replied, and then slid off of Spirit with little more than a wince and stumble. “I’ll just… stable the horses, then. You do what you need to do.”

 _I don’t have a choice_ _,_ Cloud mentally replied, and something in him twisted. “Will do,” he said instead and then, with a quick exhale, he slid off of Rain… and nearly went head first into the dirt when he knees buckled, but he managed to save himself on the last second. Rain nudged him in concern, but Zack only laughed.

Cloud placed a hand on her nose. “Get some rest, Rain. You’ve earned it. I’ll say goodnight later, okay?”

“Just get goin’, you sap,” Zack said. He was still chuckling at his expense, but a rude gesture from Cloud sent him cackling all over again. With a brief shake of his head he grabbed ahold of Rain’s reins, and then led her and Spirit to the stable, still laughing.

Meanwhile, all humor was lost on Cloud as he went straight to the inn. He took the steps slowly, his thighs and saddle-sore ass protesting all the while, but he eventually made it to the inn’s brass door. Its windows were cracked, the front porch was sticky, and the smell of cheap wine that had lingered at the doorway nearly knocked him over when he stepped inside.

The moment he entered, a loud voice greeted him. “Wel – Oh, it’s you,” said the innkeeper, Mary. She was currently popping open a new case of beer, and her chapped hands were a furious red as she held the bottle opener. “Back so soon, and with them cattle I s’ppose?”

“Ma’am,” Cloud said in greeting as he shambled his way to the front. “An’ that’s right. Just got to town a moment ago. Got two rooms available?”

Mary snorted as if it were a dumb question. Maybe it was. “’Course we do,” she said, and inclined her head towards the nearby staircase. “Go ahead and pick two out, whichever you want. Ain’t nothin’ special or fancy, as you very well know. An’ if you want somethin’ to eat, be quick about it,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “Them workers will be back tonight late, and they’re keen to scarf down any morsel in the place.”

“Workers?” Cloud echoed. He hadn’t heard about this the last time he had been in town. But then again, the last time he had been here, it had been stunningly quiet.

“The folk workin’ the railroad,” Mary said by explanation. She set aside the beers and then moved on to the ale, which hissed as they were forced open. “They got this gran’ plan, you see. If they get a railroad to connect us to the other towns along the mountain, then they think that perhaps we’ll see new life in this lil’ village of ours.”

Cloud made a noise. Now _this_ he was vaguely familiar with. “Seems like a tough job,” he replied as he took two room keys off of the wall.

“That’s right. They’re workin’ their way westward right now, hopin’ to reach the city of Costa del Sol before the next winter.”

“Gonna take that long?”

Mary shot him a long look. “That long,” she deadpanned. “And that expensive, might I add. But,” she continued with a vague wave of her hand, “our troubles ain’t your troubles, an’ I’m sure you got enough with the cattle and all. Go, clean up and rest. Bring your rancher friend too, wherever they may be, and I’ll make sure you get a hot meal in you.”

Cloud’s expression softened; after eating meals cold in the saddle all day, the thought of a hot meal nearly had him melting to the floor. “Thanks,” he said honestly, and began to make his way up the stairs towards their rooms. Yet just as his boot hit the first step, something within him twisted and he glanced over his shoulder. “And Mary?”

“Yes?”

“Is the mayor in town?”

Mary glanced at him oddly. “Sure is. Why?”

“Gotta speak to him about the cattle,” Cloud said quickly. “But no matter, I’ll find him. Take care now.”

“Take care,” came Mary’s response, and soon the only sound was her scrubbing the dishes and his boots scuffing the stone floor. He felt jittery, as if ants had made his way into his clothes. He wanted to run. He wanted to sleep. He wanted…

He opened the door to his room, looked at the thin bed and small water dish, and realized:

All he really wanted was to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Things are slowly picking up. Crazy how this is only chapter six - in my head, we were much farther along lol
> 
> Anyway, shameless plug time, feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) for story updates and chapter previews! Links to my Ko-Fi page can also be found there if you'd like to support my writing, but there's absolutely no pressure to do so - if you're enjoying the story, that's honestly enough for me 😊
> 
> Until next time: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💙


	7. The Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Smut (just in case ya'll forgot this is rated E)
> 
> \-------
> 
> Happy Monday everyone! I hope you've all had a good week 😊
> 
> This chapter was difficult to write, particularly the first section 🙈 Ahhhhhh
> 
> As always, thank you so much to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for editing this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter 🐴🐮🌙

Zack could hear the cattle bellowing outside his and Aerith’s window. Their cheerful greetings echoed across the pastureland and slipped into their bedroom, and the dawn’s golden light trickled in soon after. The lacy curtains billowed in a warm breeze. The few oak trees scattered across the property waved towards the pink-tinged sky. Birds sang to the clouds smeared high above.

The mattress was groaning.

Zack’s calloused fingers dug into the thin sheets as he thrust his hips forward, and Aerith’s delicate moan rose up from under him. She was splayed beneath him, her hair fanning the milky pillow and her pale skin glistening in the equally pale light. Her eyes were pinched and her lips parted with her breathy gasps, and the sound of her pleasure had his cock jerking in anticipation.

He dipped his head down as heat stirred within him; still moving, he trailed lazy kisses along her jawline and she tilted her chin up to oblige him. Her pulse fluttered against his lips. He could taste her salt on his tongue, and its tang sent him twitching, _wanting_ _,_ and he loosened his iron grip on the bedsheets to run his hands down to her hips. Her skin was smooth beneath his callouses.

The nubs of his fingers pressed and kneaded against her, and her body arched with the movement; the hot tips of her breasts were flush against his chest, which sent a throb of desire so strongly through him that his breaths went uneven and heat pooled between his legs.

No matter how often they made love, it always felt like the first time.

He could feel Aerith’s hands explore his body. Her fingers skimmed the sharp edges of his shoulder blades, traced the lifted scars running down his back and eventually found the tight swell of his ass. With a wicked grin her hands cupped his cheeks; and with his sharp intake of breath, she pulled him closer against her… and deeper inside her.

_“_ _Mine,”_ she whispered into his ear.

The word was little more than a hot, breathy exhale, and yet a quiet curse tumbled out of his lips regardless; he pressed his forehead into the crook of Aerith’s neck, eyes squeezed shut as that wild heat within him began to expand into something more. His rhythm went ragged.Flame that licked his body and tightened his core; and though he tried to calm down, tried to put Aerith’s needs first, his control rapidly unraveled when Aerith’s hand reached further down and cupped his balls. He jerked at the slight touch and saw stars, and when she gently tightened her hold, those same stars burst beneath his skin. Her fingers stroked all the right places and the uncontrollable heat between his legs began to feverishly contract, and unable to take it, he pushed himself even deeper into Aerith’s hot folds as warmth pulsed down his length -

\- and a cow suddenly bellowed into the room.

Zack nearly bit his tongue with the force of his curse, and he turned his sharp glare to the window as the fire within him sputtered and died… except the bedroom was now overlooking mountains instead of the pasture, which had him blinking in confusion. It took him another moment to realize that this wasn’t even his bedroom. In fact, he wasn’t even _inside._ Dirt was spread out beneath his body instead of Aerith, and to his right wasn’t a framed window but instead a cheerful campfire that flickered and danced beneath a starlit sky.

He tilted his head upward, confusion etched across his features. “The hell?” he asked the stars…

* * *

… and Zack woke up with a start. He blinked, and then found himself staring up at a white ceiling with the covers tangled between his legs and bunched up in his hands. _The Corel Inn,_ he distantly realized as he slowly sat up. There was a chill to the air, the sort that would be burned off when the sun fully rose, and yet his skin was clammy with sticky, uncomfortable heat. He also noticed that there was a very noticeable tent in the bedsheets, one that had him both rolling his eyes in annoyance and huffing in frustration.

He was debating to take care of it when another cow lowed to the rising sun, and he shifted his glare out the window. _Damn cattle,_ he thought.

The inn Cloud had procured for them was built against the side of a hill. This meant that the sun didn’t have to work as hard to climb over the mountains and warm his window, and that the cattle pasture stretched out beneath his window in a watercolor of greens and browns. The cows themselves dotted the field in clusters of brown and white, and their heads tilted towards the smeared clouds as they greeted the day. _Loudly._

And Zack glared at every single one before resolutely, and stiffly, getting ready for the day. He’d undoubtedly miss the cows when they were sold, but right now, he missed his wife more… as did a certain member of his anatomy, he noted bitterly as he shrugged his pants on.

_Why did I let Cloud talk me into this?_ he wondered as he pulled his worn shirt on next, and logic immediately answered: he had a baby on the way, and babies were expensive. So was fixing the fence, buying a new plow, and procuring seed for the next growing season. And, of course, this was completely ignoring the fact that Spirit needed a new saddle, bridle, reins, _and_ horseshoes…

Zack’s sharp exhale whistled between his teeth as the costs mounted. _Why,_ he thought as he roughly splashed water on his face, _does everything have to be so gosh darn expensive?_

With no answers forthcoming, he grabbed his leather hat and exited his small inn room. Cloud’s room was right beside his, and he quickly knocked on it on his way to the downstairs tavern; but when only silence replied, he slowly opened the door only to find out the room was empty.

_Cloud must have already left for the day_ , Zack noted, and he glanced over the room with a practiced eye. The small water dish in the corner was dry, which meant that Cloud had left quite a while ago. The bed had also been made to crisp perfection, and Cloud’s saddlebag – which was tucked neatly in the corner – had already been packed and was ready to go.

Zack frowned. That was the thing about Cloud; he traveled like he was already moving on.

_Did he even sleep at all?_ Zack wondered as he quietly shut the door and made his way downstairs. He knew that Cloud hadn’t been sleeping much these past few nights, but he figured it had just been the stress of riding; though after the fresh bruise Cloud sported the night before last, he wasn’t sure if that was necessarily true anymore.

The thought had his frown deepening as he descended the creaking staircase. It was a quiet morning in the tavern, too early for the main crowd and too late for the early risers, and so the only people in the dining area were the inn owner Mary, a silver-haired man sitting at the counter, and Cloud himself sitting in the corner with his back to the wall. His eyes were glazed and unfocussed as he stared at the far wall, and he didn’t notice Zack hovering at the entrance.

Cloud also wasn’t wearing his hat, and that meant that there was nothing hiding the sunken shadows beneath his eyes or the large, purple-gray bruise smeared against his cheek. Maybe it could have been explained away as a simple fall to others, but Zack knew better. He had seen bruises like that before, and he knew what to look for: molted blue splotches formed four knuckles against his pale cheekbone, and beneath that, four closed fingers brushed downward in a series of inky blacks and rotted yellows. Worse, it was a full day old. The swelling may have lessened, but its color had deepened into something horrific.

It made Zack’s chest tighten to look at. Cloud obviously didn’t go out on a walk and trip, obviously; he had been a Ranger at one point, and he knew how to break a fall. No, it was clear that he was ambushed… and for some strange, inexplicable reason, he didn’t want to tell Zack about it.

_But why?_ The floorboards groaned as Zack made his way over to Cloud’s table. _That doesn’t make sense._ If bandits or robbers had been after the cattle, then Cloud would have been smart to call on Zack for backup. Same would be true if he had been attacked by some sort of monster. But to fight and not say anything, and then to _lie_ about it the next morning?

Zack’s expression pinched as he knew:

_Something’_ _s_ _wrong._

Cloud didn’t notice Zack’s approach. One of his hands propped up his head while the other rested near a full cup of coffee, his fingers lightly curled against the table’s dark wood. No steam whispered up from the coffee’s inky surface, and there wasn’t a plate set out in front of him. If he had already ordered breakfast, it had long since been cleared away.

It was only when Zack grabbed the chair that Cloud’s head jerked up in surprise, but recognition smoothed out his features immediately. _He’s jumpy,_ Zack thought as he sat down with a smile. _He’s expecting a fight._

“Mornin’,” Zack greeted, as if all were right in the world. “You look deep in thought.”

Cloud glanced at his hands, at the dirt embedded in their crescents, and then shrugged noncommittally. “Lookin’ forward to goin’ home,” he replied. It didn’t sound like a lie, but something in his tone made Zack pause. He sounded… guarded, distrustful, and distracted.

_In fact,_ Zack realized after a pause, _he_ _sounds_ _a lot like when he had first joined the Rangers._

Cloud had joined nearly five years ago now, when Cloud had been fourteen and Zack had been sixteen. Cloud had been a different breed of human back then; he had been painfully thin, fought dirty, and used language more colorful and creative than Zack had ever had the pleasure of listening too. Some had even called him _wild_ or on a particularly nasty day, _rabid._ But Cloud had also been a crack shot. He had been their fastest rider, had been the lightest on his feet, and had been the quickest to react when things went wrong. In fact, as the years went on he had become something of a prodigy amongst the Rangers, though Zack was always quick to remind that he had joined first and was more decorated.

Something inside Zack faltered. It was strange how little all those decorations seemed to mean now.

“I’m missing home too,” he finally replied when Mary, the innkeeper, walked over with a menu. He thanked her before she whisked away with an annoyed grunt. “It feels like it’s been months.”

Cloud’s expression shifted. “It does,” he agreed, and cleared his throat. “Gonna have your meetin’ with the mayor today?”

Zack skipped the small beef section as he scanned the menu. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “Sure am,” he answered.

“When?”

“Half past noon.” He flipped through the various items, and found himself torn between ordering a simple onion and potato omelet or the biscuits and gravy. On one hand, the omelet was cheap despite being made of two eggs instead of one. One the other hand, _biscuits_.

Cloud’s finger tapped against the table. “Where?” he asked.

“Pasture with the cattle,” Zack said, then flicked his gaze up. “What’s with all the questions? Thought you didn’t want to go.”

“Just curious,” Cloud replied, in far too lax of tone.

Zack hummed in response. There seemed to be something else going on, but… _Guess I’ll order the biscuits,_ he decided, and lifted two fingers in the air to signal that he was ready to order.

Cloud was once again tapping against the table, and his bruise stood out against his skin like blood on snow. “How long do you think your meeting is gonna take?”

Mary sauntered over with a stormy look, though her expression smoothed when she reached their table. “Awfully curious,” Zack pointed out. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

Cloud’s eyes dropped back down his hands and frowned at them. There were scars on his knuckles. “I’m sure.”

Zack hummed again _,_ then lifted his gaze towards Mary, who seemed put off at being forgotten. “Ma’am,” he greeted.

“Sir,” Mary replied, tone clipped. She managed to make the simple word sound like an insult. “What would you like to order?”

“Biscuits and gravy, please.”

She didn’t even bother writing down his request. “An’ to drink?”

“Coffee.”

“Cream and sugar?”

“Yes please.”

“Comin’ right up,” she told him in a disappointed tone, and then she was walking back the way she came before Zack could get another word in. She didn’t even bother glancing at the silver-haired man in the corner, who seemed content reading a newspaper. Apparently she wasn’t expecting many orders coming from him.

Zack watched her return behind the counter, and then turned back to Cloud. “Bit of a spitfire,” he said, referring to Mary.

“Her husband is working on the railroad, apparently,” Cloud replied. “So she’s been managin’ the inn by herself. Busy work.”

“Ah.” That certainly explained a lot. “You already have breakfast?”

Cloud held up his coffee in response.

Zack arched an eyebrow. “That all? You’re gonna need more than that.”

“Later,” Cloud replied offhandedly, then changed the subject. “While you an’ Barret are meeting, I’ll be buyin’ some supplies for the trip home. Noticed that we were low on dried fruit and jerky.”

“And beans,” Zack tacked on. “Gotta have me some beans.”

“And beans,” Cloud agreed with a ghost of a smile, and then he slowly rose to his feet. He rose stiffly, as if his muscles were protesting the entire way up, but he didn’t even wince.

Zack’s gaze went distant. That was another trait from back then; when Cloud had first joined the Rangers, another fresh recruit had set his gun down and it had went off. Freak accident. But the bullet had gotten Cloud right in the leg, and yet beside the initial gasp of pain, he didn’t even flinch. Not even when they yanked the bullet out, which had other men screaming through leather. It gave Zack shivers to recall. He wondered if Cloud still had the scar.

“Anythin’ else?” Cloud asked, drawing Zack back to the present.

Zack shook his head. “Nothin’ I can think of,” he replied as he leaned back in his chair. Cloud’s strange behavior was rubbing off on him. “Where you headed?”

“Stables, to say mornin’ to Rain,” Cloud replied. His voice was crisp, like it had been ironed out and left to dry too long in the sun. “You know, to brush her down and such.”

Zack was fairly certain that brushing the horses was the stablehand’s job, but… “Have fun,” he told Cloud with a wave of his hand.

“Thanks,” he replied, and set the rimmed hat on his straw-gold hair. He adjusted it so that it shadowed his eyes, and then he was walking towards the door, strides long and purposeful.

It was then that Zack noticed that Cloud had stitched a piece of soft leather onto the bottom of his boots, so that they didn’t make any noise as he walked.

* * *

The coffee cupped between Tifa’s palms had long since gone cold, and hardly a ripple passed across its inky surface as she gazed out the window pane. The window was a wretched thing. It was still nicked and chipped from a dust storm that had blown across the land years ago, it groaned when she opened it, and it rattled and complained when she didn’t. It was a wonder it was still attached to the house.

But now when she gazed through its warped and foggy glass, she could see – in striking, crystalline clarity – Loz tied up against the oak tree. She could see where the rope had been tied so tightly it chaffed his wrists. She could make out where the skin on his knuckles had torn. Her eyes traced the bloody hole in his shoulder, half hidden beneath his tattered vest, and wondered just how deeply her steak knife had gone. Had it nicked an artery? Had it scraped against his bones? Had its red-soaked tip made it to the other side?

The thought made her nauseous to consider, but what sickened her further was that he was watching her just as she was watching him. Their gazes met one another through the windowpane. He smiled at her emotionless expression; his smile was made out of broken glass and torn metal, and it took all of her pride to not tear her gaze away. His smile broadened and his chest began to shake as he noticed, and it occurred to her that he was laughing.

Tifa’s grip tightened on her coffee cup.

He was laughing at _her._

Aerith hovered behind her, with her own cup of black coffee nestled between her slender fingers. “I can’t believe it,” she murmured for the fifth time since the sun rose. “I shot him point-blank in the chest _._ He should be _dead,_ not….” She gestured hopelessly out the window, to where Loz’s bullet-riddled body continued to laugh _._ “Not whatever _this_ is.”

“He’s a devil,” Tifa replied simply, as she had the entire morning. There was simply no other way to describe the strange, slitted-eyed man. He didn’t go down from being kicked, he shrugged off getting stabbed, and apparently he also laughed off being filled with lead. “It would take more than a single bullet to kill him.”

“Should I call an exorcist?” Aerith asked seriously.

It wasn’t funny, but Tifa’s lips twitched into a smile anyway. “Hmm…Maybe.” She flexed her hands around her forgotten cup of coffee, and her bandages went taunt at her knuckles. “Perhaps we should commission a priest for holy water as well. And silver bullets, maybe?”

“I’ve also heard that if you salt the door, then negative energies cannot enter,” Aerith added in a low tone. “Salt is plentiful around her. We could do it right now.”

Tifa’s gaze went distant. She recalled how Loz had stepped into her home like he owned it, and how _heavy_ his footsteps sounded against the old floorboards. She remembered how his deep voice echoed across the hallway like sandpaper, how his gun left cracks against the walls, and how easily he had overpowered her.

_If Aerith had not come…_

Tifa shuddered against the thought, and didn’t pursue it further. “I don’t think,” she slowly, softly replied, “a simple line of salt would stop him.”

Sometime between being skimmed by a bullet to right now, she realized that she was fragile _._ She was painfully, _humanly_ fragile. When she was upset, she cried. When she was hit, she bruised. When she was cut, she bled freely upon the ground.

She ran a hand along the bandages on her arm as she glanced over her shoulder. Though the floors had been freshly scrubbed, she could still see the brick-red bloodstains from when Loz had been shot. She could see the outline of his body in the shrapnel peppering the wall.

_It’ll be expensive to fix_ _everything_ _,_ she thought, but distantly, as if this was just a dream and she’d wake up soon. _But at least_ _Cloud’s gettin’_ _some_ _money right now._

_Though…_ Her throat tightened, and it was suddenly difficult to swallow. _…I wish he was here right now instead._

Her lips pursed and she returned her gaze back towards the window. Loz’s smile seemed to have widened, as if he could read her thoughts.

“So what should we _really_ do about him?” Tifa finally asked. She was grateful her voice was even, but she sounded too loud in the tense quiet. “We can’t leave him tied up forever.”

Aerith placed a finger against her cheek in thought, her gaze similarly pinned outside the window. The morning sunlight made her eyes look like spring, and they were a simple splash of green amongst a plain brown world. “He’s the younger Simmel brother, right?” she asked after a pause.

Tifa nodded. “I believe so.”

“Then wouldn’t he have a bounty?” Aerith looked away from the window to look at her, and her brow was drawn with worry. She looked older, Tifa suddenly realized. Not old with age but… _wiser_ somehow, like the two small years that divided them was spread across lifetimes. “Sephiroth Simmel had a bounty, anyway. Quite a large one too. Heard that the two men that captured him are now very well off.”

Tifa heard that same story, that two men by the name of Cid and Vincent managed to outmaneuver and overpower Sephiroth Simmel in the lonely south. Rumor had it that there was a third anonymous man that contributed to Sephiroth’s eventual capture, but that’s all it was: a rumor, and an unsubstantial one at that.

“So,” Tifa began slowly as Aerith moved to sit across from her, “you’re saying that if the elder Simmel had a hefty bounty, then the younger does as well.”

“Exactly,” Aerith affirmed.

Tifa nodded. _Makes sense,_ she thought, and she glanced back out the window and into Loz’s slitted green eyes. He was still smiling, and his smile broadened when he noticed her stare. His lips moved as he said something, but whatever he said was lost to the dry breeze. Tifa was grateful for it.

“Think they would have more information back in Rocket Town? We have his horse, after all.” Loz’s horse was a stunningly large but surprisingly gentle, silver mare. She was happily occupying Rain’s empty stable, with a trough full of fresh water and a bundle of hay to keep her company. “We could be there before nightfall. Then bring back the sheriff,” Tifa added. “Have him deal with this.”

Aerith delicately frowned. “We could,” she slowly but hesitantly agreed.

“If we manage to pull it off and win the bounty, we’d both be rich then.”Tifa propped her chin onto her elbow; her knuckles smarted from where she had scuffed them last night. “Richer than selling the cattle way out in Corel, at any rate.”

Aerith’s laugh was dry and light. “Now wouldn’t that be somethin’. Our husbands go out to earn some extra coin, and while they’re gone, we earn far more than they could ever dream about.”

“That would be quite the story,” Tifa replied with a small smile. “Though, Cloud is quite the dreamer when it comes to money.”

“Oh?”

“He has this idea that one day, we’ll be rich enough to have a hot water heater and electricity way out here,” Tifa grinned, and Aerith giggled in reply. Water heaters and electricity could be found in the big cities, particularly in Midgar where the Shinra Electric Company was headquartered, but certainly not way out in the bushes. “He wants lights all out in the yard, equipment for the fields, and I think that he hopes to hire some help as well.”

“He _is_ quite the dreamer,” Aerith laughed. “But wouldn’t it drive him crazy, to have others muck up his stable?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Zack is the same way.” Aerith glanced out the window, and her smile grew soft. “He hopes to one day earn enough so we never have to worry about fixing the fences again, but right now his dreams are a little more…”

“Realistic?” Tifa offered.

“More short term,” Aerith replied, and vaguely gestured to her round belly. “You know, with the baby comin’ and all.”

A shadow flicked across Tifa’ expression – _I put her_ _and her baby_ _in danger last night_ – and the lighthearted conversation snapped between them like a brittle wafer. _They could have been shot._

“How did you know?” Tifa asked after a lengthy pause.

Aerith arched an eyebrow. “How did I know what?”

“That I was in trouble,” Tifa clarified. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair; her body ached from the fight last night. “You didn’t have a horse, so it must have been a long walk for you. Not to mention unsafe, especially after nightfall...”

Aerith’s eyes lit up in understand. “Ah. I see. Well… I just had a feeling, I suppose.” She leaned back in her chair, and it groaned beneath her weight. “I get them sometimes, jus’ here and there. Like a few days ago; when I woke up, I just knew that you and Cloud would be comin’ over to visit. Had the feelin’ that Cloud and Zack would be going on a long trip as well, so I made some chocolate.”

Tifa’s eyes widened a fraction. She remembered the chocolate Aerith had given to her the day she and Cloud rode up to their property, along with her teasing whisper that if she gave it to Zack to deliver, he’d eat all of it and Cloud wouldn’t see a thing.

“You made chocolate because you knew you’d see us that day,” Tifa realized.

Aerith’s smiled into her coffee. “What, you thought I make chocolate all the time?” She laughed then, as if the suggestion was ridiculous. “Even I don’t have that sort of time!”

“I don’t know what I thought,” Tifa admitted, still smiling, but her smile slipped as she glanced out the window. Still Loz sat against the oak tree, pleased and proud as could be. It occurred to her that he hadn’t even tried to escape during the long night.

Tifa glanced back to Aerith, and the humor had faded from her eyes. “Before we turn Loz in for the supposed bounty,” she began delicately, “should we get some answers?”

Aerith’s expression hardened and she flicked her gaze to her shotgun that leaned against the wall, freshly cleaned and loaded. “Maybe we should,” she replied, her tone as light as a dagger.

“Do you want to stay inside?” Tifa asked. “For the baby -”

“And leave you alone out there?” Aerith interrupted with a scowl. “Absolutely not.”

“But -”

“And no buts.” Aerith crossed her arms over her chest. “We do this together, or we leave that man out there to bake until the husbands get home and it’s four against one.”

Tifa liked those odds, but the thought of having Loz remain out there for a few more days, watching her through the windows and laughing…

She’d go mad.

“All right,” she murmured, and slowly rose to her feet. “All right, we’ll go together.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Tifa moved to grab her rifle. She had cleaned it thoroughly last night, and knew that it wouldn’t be jamming again. She also kept a knife on her, though. Just in case.

“Let’s do this,” she murmured to no one in particular, and then threw the front door open.

The gun was cold in her hands.

* * *

The day was already promising to be sweltering. The morning’s chill was quickly being burned off by the rising sun, and the sky above was a single sheet of pale blue. The hum of insects filled the air, the brown earth that surrounded Corel was beginning to shimmer in the heat, and the cracked horizon wavered and danced to its own song.

Cloud threw open the door to the stable. The old wood groaned beneath his touch, and he was pleased to find that the stable’s interior was cool. That was good; that meant that despite its appearances, it had proper insulation and would keep the night’s chill off of the horses. Even better, the stable was also empty, which gave Cloud a small measure of comfort as he closed the door behind him. Rain herself seemed especially pleased by the accommodations, and she craned her head over the stall door to greet him.

He placed a hand against the side of her head. “Mornin’,” he murmured, and she blinked low and lazy in reply. “You happy?”

She replied with a shake of her head, and then she reached even further over the stalltobrush her muzzle against his cheek. Cloud went still. Her nose was wet and cold against the dark bruise, but he didn’t pull away. He wouldn’t allow himself to.

“Yeah, still there,” he told her as she drew her head back, and he offered her a soft smile. “But don’t worry. It don’t hurt much anymore.”

She snorted as if calling him an idiot, which almost had him chuckling.

Almost.

“They brush you?” he asked, changing the subject. He glanced over to her long mane and tail; it certainly looked as if the stablehands had brushed her, and a quick look at her clean hooves told him that those had also been taken care of.

Some tension unraveled from him; despite everything, at least he would know that she was being taken care of, and he quietly unlocked her stall door. Rain’s ears shot up in anticipation of a ride, only to fall when she realized that he was joining her instead. Her disappointment passed quickly, however, when she realized that he was digging for something in one of his bags hanging on the wall.

“No, it’s not a carrot,” Cloud said when she urgently nudged his shoulder. “Jus’ lookin’ for your… _the_ _holy_ _hell_ _?_ ” He made a disgusted sound and pulled his hand out of the bag, his eyebrows drawn at the sticky brown substance coating his hands. It took him a moment of staring to realize that it was _chocolate_ , the same chocolate that Aerith had made before he and Zack left home.

He harshly sighed. “ _Con sarn it_ ,” he cursed, and he wiped his hand against an old rag lying nearby. He had forgotten about the chocolate, which annoyed him. How the hell did he forget about _chocolate?_

Rain nudged his shoulder again, drawing him back to the present. “No, that’s not for you,” he told her while he grabbed her brush. Chocolate had smeared its bristles, and he uttered another, more colorfulcursebefore he grabbed another rag.

Before long, he had cleaned the brush and Rain was standing in front of him, her eyes closed in contentment as he brushed out her silky mane. It was a familiar routine, one that was even a bit therapeutic, and soon Cloud’s eyes glazed over and his mind wandered.

_I’ll break into the_ _mayor Barret’s_ _office while he’s meeting with Zack,_ he mentally rehearsed. He already knew where the office was thanks to his previous visit, and habit had him noticing that the door used a common type of warded lock. Warded locks were designed to be rotated concentrically, and though Cloud no longer had his skeleton key – that had been lost along with his old life – he certainly remembered how to fashion simple lock picks using bits of thin metal.

Lucky for him, metal was a common thing in a town determined to build a railroad.

He continued to brush out Rain’s mane, expression bland even as he thought, _Or I can just make a new skeleton key._ It wouldn’t be hard. His own home had a warded lock on their door – it was cheap and deterred most folks, after all – so all he had to do was file down the edges of his key.

_But that’ll take time,_ he knew. He’d first have to find something hard enough to wear down metal, and second he’d have to find the time to properly file down the key’s ridges. The process would take hours at best…hours that he didn’t have if the meeting was happening soon.

Frowning now, he shifted his gaze towards the empty stall beside his, and paused. A Farrier’s knife, used to excess sole and frog from the horse’s feet, hung neatly beside a hoof nipper. Both featured thin metal protrusions that would fit nicely into a lock, with a little manipulation of course.

_That would work,_ he knew, and he slowly set aside the brush. A chill settled over him. Rain huffed her disappointment but Cloud only offered her a sad smile, then with practiced ease made his way over to the next stall and noiselessly slipped the tools off the wall.

It was easy.

Too easy, and he dropped the tools into his chocolate-smeared bag. Their dull metal gleamed in the dark, andhe closed the bag with an unreadable expression.

_What am I doing?_ a part of him wondered, except that part and all of the other parts that had been forged by bullets and blood already knew the answer:

_Surviving._

A bump against his shoulder reined in his thoughts, and he turned to find Rain watching him with a her big, brown eyes. He blinked at her, but her gaze didn’t waver. She pinned him beneath that stare and seemed to be asking, _Are you all right?_

Cloud ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he whispered, and placed a hand against her nose. She exhaled her contentment. “Rain, I think… things are gonna get bad again.”

She shook her head beneath his hand, but he wasn’t sure what she was saying.

“Will you help me one more time?” he asked. His voice was nearly soundless in the dark stable, and he was vaguely aware his fingers were trembling. Maybe stealing wasn’t as easy as he thought; that even though his body remembered, his mind was begging to forget.

Rain suddenly snorted into his palm, but the meaning was lost to him. He only stared, and stared, and stared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I sort of saw this chapter as the prelude to what comes next, which is as you can imagine, NOTHING GOOD.
> 
> You can follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) for story updates, chapter previews, and general positive vibes 🌻
> 
> Until next time: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💙


	8. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! I hope you're all having a great weekend so far 🌻
> 
> Yeahhhhh.... I don't really have much to say about this chapter, besides that I enjoyed writing it far too much and that I'm sorry in advance for all the shit that goes down. At least you know that the story has an eventual happy ending? 😅 
> 
> As always, huge thank you to my beta - [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) \- for editing the chapter and all her wonderful suggestions!
> 
> Enjoy! :)

There were few things in life that were so beautiful that they hurt: the silence of the night after a storm, a lone tree bent against the weight of the sky, fireflies blinking in the dark, and droplets dancing down foggy windows as rain pattered against the glass. And then there was this – whatever this was.

Zack leaned against the pasture’s corral fence. His brimmed hat shaded his eyes, a single stalk of wheat was held firm between his teeth, and his tongue played with the thin stem as he squinted towards the grassland. The cattle were clustered together in the center of the field. Their dark shadows were stunted beneath the midday sun, and their heads were bowed against the light as they grazed on dry grass. Zack felt a twinge in his chest as he watched them. The twinge felt something like a pebble thrown against a window, or maybe a clod of dirt being kicked down a dusty road.

It felt like loss.

It even felt a little bit like grief, but that was silly, wasn’t it? _Grief._ He scoffed at the word. He had raised the cattle knowing full-well that they were going to be sold one day; it was why they were called the _herd,_ the _livestock,_ and not the _pets._

And yet here he was, with his back turned against the town and his eyes resting on the herd that he had raised since their birth. The land around his home would seem a little emptier without them lumbering about. His days would be a little emptier, too. It made him wonder how he would go about filling the acres, the weeks, the hours strung together in a day.

He fiddled with the straw between his teeth, and wondered: Should he do what Cloud did, and grow seasonal crops? Would he want to raise more livestock? Or could he take a break from the rancher’s life and do something different, something that paid a little more?

_I could be a Ranger again._

The thought brushed against his mind, both unexpected and yet not, like a guest that had gotten lost on the road but had finally arrived in the dead of night. He settled against the fence post. There was no denying that he missed the Ranger lifestyle. It fit him as easily as a well-worn saddle or a familiar leather glove; it was something that he knew how to do, and it was something that he was good at. He could track fugitives across unforgiving landscapes. He could protect a developing homestead from thieves and monsters. He could shoot a tin can from forty paces away, and then shoot it again when it snapped back from the bullet.

Being a land-owning, ranch-working, decent husband was far more difficult than all of that. Then to be a _father…_ now that was still something else entirely. Fatherhood was a term so massive, so encompassing, so _daunting_ that he still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. It was futile to even try. Picturing himself as a father was like trying to visualize the night sky using only a telescope, like trying to see heaven with only a black book, like trying to comprehend eternity with only a pocket watch. It simply couldn’t be done.

But he was determined to try.

One of the cattle wandered up to him while he contemplated his corner of the universe. It blinked at him with its large doe eyes and bellowed, a soft, low sound, and without thinking he lifted his hand and lightly scratched its chin. It loudly exhaled through its nose as it closed its eyes and wagged its stubby tail back and forth.If it were a cat, it might have just purred.

_“Now ain’t this a pretty picture.”_

A sudden voice, one as rough as the gravel Zack stood on, had him glancing over his shoulder. A large man was striding up to him. The newcomer wore a hat with studs pinned into the leather band, a glossy badge pinned onto his cotton shirt, and patches sewn into the knees of his pants. He was also tall enough that Zack had to tilt his chin up to meet his dark eyes, something that was more than a little disconcerting. That didn’t happen very often.

But all of that – the badge, the fancy hat, the height difference – was forgotten the moment Zack noticed the man’s prosthetic right arm. It was an impressive beast. While most false limbs were flimsy things designed to assist movement and not snap in half, this one had been clearly designed to be a weapon. The metal hand included brass knuckles and a dexterous thumb. The wooden forearm included an indent in the distinct shape of a gun barrel. The hilt of a knife protruded out of the elbow.

Noticing Zack’s admiration, the man grinned wickedly and said, “The pinky is also a knife.” He promptly showed Zack by popping the digit off like a cork, and Zack nodded sagely as if he saw this type of thing every day. Internally, he had to admit that he was rather jealous. He wanted his pinky to turn into a knife.

“You must be Mayor Wallace,” Zack greeted, and offered his hand.

The mayor grasped the hand with his prosthetic and shook. His grip was strong, and the metal was cold and sharp against Zack’s palm. “The one an’ only. And you must be Zack Fair, I reckon.”

“Yes sir.” One of the cattle in the field bellowed long and low. “I heard that you’d like to purchase the herd from Cloud. Cloud Strife,” Zack clarified.

“That’s right.” Wallace glanced out towards the pasture, where a second cow hollered at the first, and soon their cries rose up as a clashing orchestra. “Not sure if you’ve been made aware, but our small minin’ town has been eager to build a railroad stretchin’ east, towards Costa del Sol. The men workin’ the railroad need ta eat, and your herd would be a might big help on that front.”

Zack felt that earlier twinge again, that feeling similar to throwing a pebble against a window or kicking a clod of dirt down the road. The pebble were the ideas he hoped would wake up an epiphany; the dirt was the thoughts he kicked down the dusty road of his mind. Everything orbited the perpetual sun of: _W_ _hat_ _will I_ _do without the cattle?_ How should he spend his days? Should he sit by the window and wait for something new, or should he turn the land for crops he might not grow? Should he repair fences that didn’t need it? Should he redo the roof he had redone last year? Should he pick up his pistol, his lasso, and become a Ranger all over again?

But then the answer came to him, as swift and breathless as a punch to the gut:

They hadn’t prepared a room for the baby yet.

Zack heard a distant _snap_ as a wire short circuited in his brain. He felt like he had taken a swig of a canteen but had gotten whiskey instead of water. There was the initial surprise. The choking, sputtering cough as his body rejected it. The acidic burn that scorched his throat and watered his eyes. But then, like all good whiskey, the realization eventually went down smooth.

“Fine by me,” Zack finally replied. There was something bittersweet in his expression. “But don’t tell my wife. She’d be heartbroken.”

Wallace glanced at him side-eyed. “She the type that sees the livestock as pets?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“I see.” Wallace scratched the stubble on his chin, and his gaze went distant; not _distant_ in the sense that he had turned towards the mountains or the horizon, but inwardly distant, focused towards something only he could see. “My daughter – she turned four this year – sees livestock the same way. We have a pet hen now, as she threw a mighty fuss when I was gonna kill it for dinner after it stopped layin’ eggs. Now it follows her around the house like a damn dog.” He barked a laugh, and the sound was nearly as rough as his voice. “Can you imagine? A _chicken._ Actin’ like a dog! Even eats out of a bowl an’ sits on yer lap, all content-like.”

“Even in the house?”

“Especially in the house,” Wallace affirmed with a grimace. “Shits everywhere, might I add. But unfortunately for me, my daughter is more stubborn than I am. Screams louder, too,” he added, then turned to Zack with a wry grin. “Pick your battles, eh?”

“Pick your battles,” Zack agreed. Now that was a sentiment he certainly stand beside. “My wife an’ I have been raisin’ these cattle from birth, so she’ll be relieved to know that they’ll be well taken care of before what needs to be done.”

“Of course they will,” he stated, but then his expression suddenly grew serious. It was such a drastic shift that his entire face had to rearrange itself to accommodate its new severity. “I didn’t think you’d even make it to Corel, truth be told. Few more days an’ I would have sent one of my men out ta one of the other towns for supplies.”

This news had Zack pausing. “Why?”

The mayor didn’t answer right away, but when he did speak, his voice echoed the gravity of his expression. “Tell me honest,” he said. “Did ya run into any trouble on yer ride here? Or see anything unusual – abandoned campsites, cold campfires, or anythin’ of that sort?”

“Nothin’ like that,” Zack said. “It was a quiet ride. Didn’t even lose any of the cattle.”

Wallace’s eyebrows rose at that. “Didn’t lose a single one?”

“No, sir. Not a one.”

“Truly.” Wallace rubbed a hand along his stumble. “Well, you’re either two of the luckiest sons of bitches to ride these parts, or yer lyin’.”

Zack’s eyes flashed. “I ain’t a liar.”

“I ain’t sayin’ that.” Wallace raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Just.. listen for a second. There’s a group of highwaymen campin’ out somewhere in the mountains pickin’ off anyone who enters that way, and as sheriff, it’s my business to know who makes it through or not.”

“I thought you were the mayor,” Zack said. “Not the sheriff.”

“It’s a small town,” Wallace replied. “We ain’t got a sheriff, so I hired myself. You know the sayin’: if you want it done right, you ought to do it yourself.” He shot Zack a cagey grin before he sobered. “It’s nothin’ personal. Jus’ thought that I’d ask, particularly since yer friend Strife made it back an’ forth twice now with not even a blister to show for it. But,” he added with a shrug, “perhaps he’s just a brave bastard ridin’ side by side with lady luck.”

But Zack had stopped paying attention halfway through, because that wasn’t quite true, was it? Cloud _did_ get injured. He got punched in the face, and still sported the bruise. Something _had_ happened in the mountains, something Cloud wasn’t telling him, and the more Zack thought about it, the more sure he became. A dark door groaned open within him, and an icy breeze pushed its way through. The midday sun went cold.

“No,” Zack finally said. “That’s not true.”

“What ain’t true?”

“That Cloud rides with lady luck. There was an incident in the mountains,” Zack slowly explained. Wallace perked up; his dark eyes brightened to the color of 20 Black Bowmore whiskey. “It happened during the night, when I was sleepin’. He left camp and got hit. Said that he fell,” Zack admitted, “but I know the difference between fallin’ on your ass and gettin’ your mug bashed in.”

“I see. Was it bad?”

“Bad?”

“The injury,” Wallace clarified.

Zack thought back to Cloud’s bruise – to its molted watercolor of red, greens, and blues, and how just how close the dark smear was to his eye. He said, “Could have been worse.”

“I see.” Wallace made a sound low in his throat, something between an affirmation and a dark hum. “And where,” he said delicately, “is Strife now?”

“He’s out buyin’ supplies.” The reply was immediate, but doubt had already settled in Zack’s gut like a stone. “We’re plannin’ on ridin’ back home tomorrow, and needed a few more things for the journey. So he’s out gettin’ us some staples: dried goods, beans, and such.” They were all reasonable statements. Sensible, in fact. And yet there was something off about them too: a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.

“Is he really?” Wallace asked.

“He is,” Zack replied, but it sounded too much like a lie. “So tell me ‘bout these outlaws of yours,” he said, changing the subject while idly kicking a piece of gravel that had been resting by his boot, which bounced down the dusty road. “D’you know where they came from?”

Wallace’s expression pitched into a scowl. “Truth be told, I don’t know much. I’ve only found their burnt campfires – haven’t actually gotten sight of them, mind you, so I don’t know what they look like. That said,” he continued with arms crossed, “our little town got a notice from Midgar shortly before the highwaymen began inhabiting the mountains.”

“Midgar?”

“Midgar,” Wallace affirmed. “The notice highlighted that Sephiroth Simmel, along with three other men, escaped from the Midgar prison.”

Zack whistled. “Did they really.”

“Apparently.” Wallace’s tone was low and gravely, like wagon wheels churning against gravel. “I myself can’t figure out how they managed to do so. But they did, and the Midgar authorities have warned that Simmel and the others were heading west. Towards us,” he clarified.

“Why?”

“I ain’t got the foggiest notion.” Once again, Wallace ran a hand along his stubble. “Damn shame of that, too. If this small town can capture a runaway Simmel and turn ‘im back in to Midgar, then this piece of land wouldn’t have to worry about stayin’ afloat with the mine or the railroad. With the reward, we’d be mighty well off.”

_Reward._ The word pinged against Zack’s consciousness, and he licked his lips. “Any bounty hunters arrive in town?” he asked.

“Jus’ one: a silver-haired man who’s stayin’ at the inn.” Zack’s hummed; he recalled seeing a man like that this very morning. “But more will be comin’. There’ll be a rush west,” Wallace continued matter-of-factly. “Everyone wants a piece of a Simmel.”

“An’ you think Sephiroth Simmel is the one hunkerin’ down in the Corel mountains,” Zack replied. It wasn’t a question.

“That’s right.” Wallace’s expression went stoney, and when he glanced towards Zack, his eyes were lit with a dark glow. “You be careful on your ride back tomorrow. An’ keep an eye on Strife, too,” he added after a pause. “I’ve got a bad feelin’ about it all.”

Zack shifted his weight to his other foot, his expression grim. “I will.”

“Good.” Wallace nodded, and then gestured vaguely towards the cattle. “Now, back to the matter at hand...”

* * *

There was the promise of rain on the horizon. The distant mountain range was pillowed with heavy clouds, and their jagged crowns were pearled with fine mist. They rumbled to one another. They clashed in sudden flashes of light and dark. The sky morphed into a mosaic of black and blue and became a ceiling of hurt; a watercolor weeping across a page; a day-old bruise with no ice to soothe it.

But all was quiet on the Strife property. It wasn’t quiet in the sense that thunder wasn’t cracking and the sky wasn’t screaming, but in the sense that the crickets weren’t humming and the birds weren’t singing. The grain didn’t brush together to mimic the hum of rain. Not even a stray breeze dared rustle the leaves of the old oak tree, as if the wild wind was afraid to disturb the apprehension that weighed on the land, the tension that choked the air.

There might not have been a storm dangling directly above the Strife property yet, but that was the thing about storms: you didn’t have to see them to feel the thunder, and the sky could be blue even on the worst of days.

Today was one of those days. The oppression was rubber-band stretched to breaking, and the world held its breath as it waited for it to snap.

Gravel crunched beneath Tifa’s boots as she stepped out of her home and off her porch with Aerith close behind. Her gun was cold in her hand and her knife, hidden in her sleeve, left indents against her skin, but she did not notice. She was only aware of Loz’s slitted eyes as he tracked her movements, and how his blood-stained smile reminded her of broken glass and bullet fragments.

Tifa wrinkled her nose in disgust to mask her trembling. Her stomach curdled as she took another step forward. All she wanted to do was turn around, run back inside, lock the door behind her, and never open it for a stranger again, hospitality be damned. But if she did that… well, she wouldn’t get the answers she wanted, now would she?

She slowly exhaled, steeling herself. _He might be a devil,_ she reminded herself, _but I can be far worse._

The world continued to hold its breath.

“Good mornin’,” Loz drawled with a sneer. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He managed to sound sharp despite his fat lip. Aerith stiffened; Tifa stood a little straighter and said, “I have some questions for you. And you’ll be answerin’ them.”

It was such a bold statement, and stated with such venom, that Tifa was half surprised Loz didn’t keel over right there. Instead he laughed, a broken sound that rapidly descended into wet, rasping chuckles. “And why the hell should I do that?” he asked.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll do this,” Tifa replied, and with the flick of her wrist, snapped her knife into her hand and threw it between his legs. It sunk deep into the soft soil. “Start talking,” she ordered as the knife’s hilt warbled from the force of her throw. “Or I’ll cut them off.”

Aerith meaningfully pumped her shotgun, and added, “And I’ll shoot them off.”

It was quite the threat: two petite women, one stunningly pregnant, holding weapons as large as their arms with their dark promise written within their eyes.

Then Loz said, “I knew it was worth stayin’ here for the night.” He said it casually, as if he had stayed the night at the inn instead of spending it tied against a tree with lead embedded in his bloody chest. “But fine – I’ll answer your questions. You can think of it as a reward for beatin’ me,” he added with a jagged grin. He leaned back, and the rope groaned. “That sort of thing don’t happen very often, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Tifa replied coolly. But internally, she was furious. _Reward for beating me,_ she mentally repeated, and her finger twitched against the trigger. You _beat people_ at card games or sport matches; you _survive_ when someone breaks into your home and hunts you down like an animal. And that’s exactly what she did. She didn’t win; she _survived._

“But,” Loz continued, interrupting her thoughts, “if I’m ta be answering’ your questions, then I want to ask a question of my own. But just one.”

The distant sky cracked with sudden lightning. “Like?” Tifa asked.

Loz’s smile – that hateful, loathing smile – widened. “You first.”

His statement cracked against the ground, and Aerith glanced at Tifa with a hesitant expression. But Tifa was staring straight ahead. There was something unmovable about her in that moment, something defiant and dangerous in the dark glow of her carmen eyes.

“Fine,” Tifa finally replied. Her expression was akin to someone staring down a firing squad and saying, _Don’t miss._ “As long as we have an understanding.”

“Agreed.”

Thunder rumbled across a bruised sky.

“Who are you?” Tifa demanded.

He rolled out his shoulders, saying“Loz. But you already knew that.” One shoulder cracked with a wet pop, and fresh blood bubbled onto his ruined shirt. He didn’t even wince.

Tifa forced her expression to remain neutral even as her stomach flipped. “You’re Loz Simmel,” she stated. To her credit, her voice remained even. “You’re the younger Simmel brother.”

As if on cue, the sky grew dark. Gray clouds choked the sun and smothered the world in shadow. For a moment, no one spoke. Loz only watched her with those unnaturally slitted eyes as the silence stretched between them… and the rubber-band snapped.The corner of his lips slashed upward.

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

His voice was barely more than a midnight whisper, and yet his question hit Tifa like the crack of a whip. She blinked, stunned; even Aerith, who remained on guard beside her, seemed taken aback.

Tifa straightened her back, demanding,“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t hail from that messed up family, and I’m damn proud of that fact. So _no,_ I ain’t a Simmel.” But then Loz leaned forward, his eyes flashing in the midday glow, and added with surgical precision, “But your husband sure is.”

His statement had the same effect as a gunshot, and even the distant storm went still as his words cracked against the sky. She could smell the gunsmoke on his breath as he watched the emotions flickering across her face – bafflement, surprise, denial, horror, the fragile _What if,_ the stubborn _That’s_ _i_ _mpossible –_ and in that instant, that tiny gasp, she became a prism through which heartbreak could be seen in its infinite spectrum.

“Bull shit,” Tifa told him.

“Is it?” Lozshot back.

The resulting silence was broken only by onslaught of rain.

* * *

The art of lock-picking came easily to Cloud. Personally, he thought that it wasn’t nearly as complex as people made it out to be. Locks were much like a person, in the sense that if you wanted to learn how they worked, you first had to pick them apart to see how they broke. If you wanted to master them, you had to understand the process so well that you could put them back together again. And Cloud had. In his previous life, he had mastered the art of lock-picking to the point where he could fix a broken lock blindfolded.

But that was where his mastery ended, because putting a lock back together was one thing. But a person? He still hadn’t figured that one out. Maybe one day he would, but later. _Much_ later. Right now, he had other things on his mind… like breaking into the mayor’s office and robbing the poor man blind.

Mayor Wallace’s office was a small building situated against the sandstone cliffs that the town of Corel leaned on. Its shabby porch fought for supremacy against the dusty road, its wooden sign dangled on a single hinge, and its glass windows were smudged with a thick layer of dust. Things were same around the back of the building as well, in the sense that every aspect of it seemed to be falling apart. Clearly, the mayor hadn’t invested much in the way of sturdy infrastructure.

But the mayor had invested in a solid lock.

Cloud twisted the modified Farrier’s knife within the back door’s keyhole, his jaw locked in a grimace and sweat pricking his brow. _Shiva’s tits,_ he cursed as the pick slipped. He had forgotten how much he hated lock-picking, even if the process was rapidly coming back to him. This lock in particular had a grating personality; its cylinder was a maze of odd protrusions, nooks, and crannies, all of which were meant to confuse the hand. But it wasn’t quite complex enough, and eventually he heard a satisfying _click_ as the door unlocked.

He pushed down on the handle, and the door opened with such a shrieking groan that he winced, his toes curling within his boots. He _hated_ that sound, that piercing, unhinged moan of metal grinding against metal. It sent his nerves sparking and stomach curdling, and his hands remained clammy even after he had carefully closed and locked the door behind him. He wiped them against his pants as he entered the mayor’s main office, his leather-padded boots soundless against the floor. Everything shook within him. He was a nervous rattle of muscle and bone and sinew.

He was tired.

But that wasn’t quite right – feeling _tired_ would mean that he felt anything at all, and he refused himself that luxury. Not right now. He had become something else entirely when he crossed the mayor’s threshold; not human but creature, something unfeeling and equally unloving, something that thrived on bones and bullets and broken things. He became the crow that feasted on the carrion. He became the thing that swooped down to take what little remained. He became the final bell before the ground gave way and a neck snapped within a noose.

He became Cloud Simmel.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he made his way to the mayor’s desk. _Simmel, Simmel, Simmel_. The word echoed within his mind. He thought that if he reminded himself of who he once was, then this whole thing would become easier. Maybe his guilty conscience would fade back into the forgotten recesses of his mind, the dark ache gnawing within him would lessen for a while, and then he could finally breathe. That’s all he wanted, a brief pause so he could catch his breath, and then he could keep going… At least, for a little while longer.

Except, the more he tried to convince himself, the more obvious it became that he _wasn’t_ Cloud Simmel. Not anymore. Cloud Simmel died in the desert five years ago, and what had emerged out of that shallow grave was a broken man named Cloud Strife. And that man was tired. Exhaustion became the sand within the oyster, the grit that cut, grated, and tore until it was smoothed with lacquer and transformed into a pearl.

But it wasn’t a pearl just yet. Maybe one day it would be, when he could retell this moment and make something grand of it. That’s how the best songs were written, after all; when the worst was over and all was said and done, songs turned stars into diamonds, blood into rubies, and pain into mountains made to be overcome.

But right now, stars were just stars. Blood was just blood. Pain was just pain.

And he was just tired.

He swept his gaze across the room. The mayor’s office looked the same as in every other town, with an obvious exception: Wallace’s office also doubled as the town jail, and the brick-and-iron cells lined the far wall while the desk sat away from them, the chair swiveled backwards as if in contemplation. The blinds were closed, but muffled light seeped between their faded fabric and spilled across the papers piled on the desk, most of which were escaping the large pile to throw themselves at the floor. Some of the papers were wanted posters, but there were also other things shuffled within the yellowed parchment: notices from other towns, trading deals, land purchase announcements. Things that made Cloud’s eyes glaze to look over.

So he got to work.

As it turned out, Cloud not only remembered how to pick a lock: he also remembered how to rob, and he was still stunningly good at it. The desk was the most likely place valuables would be stored – particularly, the jail key and the five thousand gil that Sephiroth had demanded – so he checked there first. Drawers were soundlessly opened and their contents pilfered as he checked for false bottoms. A strongbox the size of his first was hidden within a bag of sweets, and he made quick work opening it… and was rewarded with the jail key, an ugly iron thing nearly as dark as his humor.

He stuffed it in his pocket before continuing to work. He had nearly made it to the bottommost drawer when, at that exact moment his fingertips brushed the brass handle, the front door sharply rattled.

In the breath of silence that followed, all Cloud could hear was his blood pounding in his ears. The dark spell he had found himself in had broken. It suddenly occurred to him that he was robbing an innocent man; and when the door rattled again, firmer now, and it also occurred to him that it didn’t matter what he called himself – Cloud Simmel, Cloud Strife, or some other name –because the fact remained that he was committing a felony. Not only that, but he was stealing from the mayor. In the span of minutes, he had essentially become an outlaw.

In a moment of crushing clarity, all he could do was stare at the door and wonder: _How can I go home now?_

With his next breath he threw himself underneath the desk. The key felt heavy in his pocket, a burning confession, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the door rattled for a third time. His breath whistled soundlessly between his teeth. His throat tightened, and he suddenly felt like laughing. _Is this my life now?_ He knew how the sham worked; this entire robbery was just Sephiroth’s way of testing him, to see if he was still capable of getting the job done. The next task Sephiroth would assign – and there _would_ be a next – would be harder. So it would go on, until Cloud was so weighed down by bounties and secrets that he could no longer say no.

_We’re gonna stick together,_ Sephiroth had once declared when they had been younger, drunk on stolen wine, and camping beneath a ceiling of stars. _We’ll protect each other, no matter what._ Back them, Cloud had slurred his agreement, and they had drunk to that pact all night.

To this day, wine still soured his gut.

He dimly heard the person’s muted footsteps as they walked away, and he allowed himself the brief pleasure of a muffled curse before he slowly rolled onto his side. There had been something sharp and uncomfortable protruding into his hip, and after a brief inspection he could see why: the floorboards were uneven here, their edges jagged, as if they were meant to pulled apart.

_A trap door,_ he realized. He slowly removed one of the scuffed planks with trembling fingers. A small hollow waited beneath, one filled with a sizable black safe, and his stomach dropped. _This_ is where the five thousand gil would be waiting, and for one desperate, frenzied moment, he wished he had never found it. He wished Mayor Wallace wasn’t so damn predictable and chose better hiding spots.

But he cracked it open anyway, with one ear pressed against its dark walls and fingers slowly working the gear, because he needed the money. Not for himself, but for bribery. Sephiroth knew who Tifa was, knew where they lived, knew what she meant to him. He’d _enjoy_ hurting her.

The thought made him see red, and he accidentally twisted the gear too far. He swore, something colorful he had heard a long time ago, and started over, but soon he had the safe opened. The first thing he did was grab the large stack of gil inside of it, and after pulling off their bands, shoved the paper bills into his shirt. There was no helping their rustling sound when he moved, but he made a mental note to hum or whistle when he walked – at least then he’d sound half cheerful. As for everything else in the safe – namely, an antique watch and silver locket – he left them behind. He didn’t need them, and Sephiroth sure as hell didn’t need them either,

After re-locking the safe and slipping it back into its hollow, he pulled the floorboards flush on top and tidied the desk, putting everything back exactly as it was. He had nearly turned back towards the back door, when his attention was snagged a newspaper clipping resting on the chair. Very aware of the seconds ticking by, he briefly scanned the _Midgar Herald_ newspaper announcement:

_New_ _! Strange creature unearthed beneath the Midgar Max-Security Prison. The unidentified monster has been taken to the Shinra Electric Company’s Executive Laboratories for further testing. Professor Hojo has not been available to provide further comment, but rumors suggest that_ _the creature is associated with a recent phenomena of hys_ _…_

Cloud stopped reading to glance at the date etched into the paper’s corner. It was dated nearly three months ago, which struck him at significant, somehow. But he promptly decided that he didn’t care, and tore his eyes from the paper. Instead, he made his way towards the back door again, his shirt full of cash and his pocket heavy with the jail key.

The final _click_ of the door as he left weighed heavily upon him as he made his way to the grocery store down the road – partly because he and Zack _did_ need provisions, but mostly because he needed an alibi. He whistled as walked, not the cheerful tune he had been hoping for, but something a little more melancholy. Inside, he was disgusted with him himself. He was disgusted at how flimsy his new life was. He was disgusted at how easily everything fell apart; all it took was a single punch and threat, and his entire world was spun out of orbit. He was untethered once again.

_No, not yet,_ he corrected himself. His boots flattened the dirt as his thoughts flung themselves towards a particular woman with carmen eyes and a laugh that reminded him of stars. _Not yet._ All was not lost; he still remembered how to fight.

But, gods, was he tired.

A bell jingled as he entered the grocery store, and the owner greeted him with a lazy, “G’day.” It wasn’t, but Cloud echoed the sentiment anyway as he began the tedious process that was shopping. He grabbed a box of crackers first, just to have something to blame for all the rustling as he then grabbed the rest of the provisions: dried fruit, jerky, coffee, a couple cans of beans. He almost added a small bar of chocolate as well, if only because he was still bitter about letting Aerith’s chocolate melt in his bag and was craving something sweet, but he quickly shook himself of the notion. He wasn’t a child. He didn’t need chocolate to be soothed.

“That be all?” the owner asked when Cloud set the goods down on the counter.

Cloud fished for his wallet. “Yes, sir.”

There was a pause, and then, “You get into a fight or somethin’?”

“I...” Cloud looked up, eyebrows knit together. “Excuse me?”

“Your face.” The other man glanced meaningfully at Cloud’s cheek. “Nasty bruise there, son. Someone get th’ best of you?”

A small, bitter smile tugged at Cloud’s lips. “Something like that,” he replied, and then added because that sounded far too close to the truth, “Don’t play cards against a man that has nothing to lose. You don’t win nothin’ but trouble.”

The other man started, then barked a laugh. He laughed like a gunshot – a loud bang followed by a wheezing breath. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said as exchanged the goods for Cloud’s gil. “I hope he didn’t take yer money too, after wallopin’ you like that.”

“Nah,” Cloud managed with a wry grin. “I didn’t have much to lose, either.”

The owner laughed again, so loudly that Cloud was half surprised the windows didn’t shatter on his walk back to the door. “Have a good one,” the man called as Cloud’s hand rested on the handle, and then added, “I hope your luck turns around.”

_Me too._ But Cloud only smiled again, crooked and sad, and offered the man a goodbye tip of his hat as the door creaked shut behind him.

He was just deciding where to dump the cash – at the stables or in his rented room – when a shoulder suddenly slammed into his. It was a hard enough blow that it had him stumbling, but before he could react, something was shoved into his hand. It was accompanied by a serpentine voice: _“Sephiroth sends his_ _regards_.”

Cloud’s heart just about stopped right then. He whirled, hand snapping for the pistol strapped to his thigh on instinct, yet nobody was there. The street was empty. _Impossible,_ he thought, wide-eyed, but there was no denying it. Only the dirt moved along the ground. _How?_ A sign rattled above him; a nearby roof groaning beneath the weight of the sky. _Impossible,_ he thought again. He should have seen somebody. His reflexes weren’t that dull, and people didn’t move that quick.

And yet he realized, as if all over again, that the road was well and truly empty. He waited a moment, and then he waited two He became acutely aware of the drawn-out spaces between his shallow breathes, and after a long while of waiting to get shot and having his expectations dashed, he resigned himself to checking the note.

His gaze flicked across the crisp, looping cursive. _Tonight_. _The old well._ _I’ll be waiting._ And then, scrawled along the bottom: _I’ll be watching._

Cloud’s lips formed a thin line. _Sephiroth,_ he knew. _S_ omething shifted deep within him then, but it didn’t feel like fear. Instead, it felt taut. It sparked inside of him like an electric wire over a pool of water, bucked like a flimsy window latched tight against a storm, hurtled itself against his walls like a bird against a screen. It was chaotic. It had nowhere to go. It left him feeling like nothing in life was real except for this moment, this note, this notion that nothing would ever be the same again.

He wasn’t tired any longer.

He slipped the note into his pocket and stalked down the road. His hat shadowed his expression and darkened the blue of his eyes until they no longer were fragments of the sky but something far colder – pieces of glacial ice, the deep dark of the ocean, the twilit spaces between the stars – and he knew:

_Sephiroth_ _n_ _eeds_ _to die_ _._

His hands tightened into fists even as his stomach twisted itself into knots.

_Not go_ _back_ _to prison, but_ _**die** _ _._

And he, beyond any measure of doubt, was going to be the one to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhhh sorry about all of those cliffhangers.... ~~Please don't yell at me i'm fragile 🥺~~
> 
> Anyway, I'm hoping to get the next chapter around Mid-March? That's the goal anyway, but it really depends on how quickly I can write & edit the next [Halcyon Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601267/chapters/59426797) chapter. But! If you'd like writing updates and story previews, feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) \-- everything gets posted there first 😊
> 
> Until next time, have a wonderful rest of your day / week / month, and I wish you all nothing but the best 🌻


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